Transmigrated into a minor official in a county government, with children at home waiting for rice t

After dinner, Qingge chased Lin Xiuer around in the yard.

Old Sun squatted outside the gatehouse, squinting at the two children as he grinned and advised, "Qing-ge'er, slow down, or you'll fall and Xi-mei'er will beat you up!"

Ah-Yun tiptoed to reach the clothes on the rope, but couldn't reach them. She jumped once, but still couldn't reach them.

Zhang Sanlang walked over, reached out and took off the clothes, handing them to her.

A-Yun took it, lowered her head, and her ears turned red.

The next day, Zhang Sanlang went out on the street alone.

happy Mei'er stayed home with Qing Ge'er and Lin Xiu'er, cleaning the house. With the help of Aunt Sun and A Yun, he wasn't allowed to do anything, so he was happy to have some peace and quiet.

There was a teahouse on the main street, and a crowd had gathered at the entrance.

Zhang Sanlang leaned closer and peered through the gaps in the crowd.

Two long tables were placed side by side, each with a teacup, a teapot, and a tea grinder. Two tea masters sat opposite each other, with two waiters standing behind each of them, each holding a tea box.

The man on the left, dressed in a blue cloth robe, was in his forties with a short beard. The tea leaves in his teacup were already ground, and he was pouring water from a teapot.

The water flows in a thin but rapid stream, entering the cup in a single line without producing foam.

The onlookers exclaimed "Huh?" and some shook their heads.

The one on the right is younger, wearing a gray cotton shirt, and his technique is skillful.

He first added a small amount of water to mix the paste, whisked it a dozen times, then filled the cup with water, and swirled the whisk around. A layer of white foam rose to the surface of the cup, thick and fine, clinging to the cup without dispersing. Someone in the crowd cheered.

The middle-aged man in the long gown looked rather unwell. He ground another cup of water, this time pouring it in too quickly. The foam rose thickly but the particles were coarse, and it dissipated as soon as it clung to the cup.

He put down the soup pot, bowed slightly, and stepped aside.

The young tea master stood up, clasped his hands in greeting to the surrounding crowd, and a waiter brought a tray of teacups to serve to the onlookers.

Zhang Sanlang took the cup and sipped it. The tea foam was fine, slightly bitter at first, but with a quick and sweet aftertaste. He nodded and returned the cup.

This is different from the loose tea he usually brews himself; it is authentic tea for tea competitions.

Not only did the court and scholar-officials love this, but it was also a common sight in the marketplace.

Just then, shouts and curses suddenly came from the other end of the street.

Zhang Sanlang turned his head.

At the street corner, five or six thugs surrounded a man, shouting and cursing at him.

He recognized those thugs; they were street thugs who used to hang out with Donkey Three. Since Donkey Three went to serve in the prefecture, this group lost their backer, but they still roamed the streets, though their arrogance wasn't what it used to be.

Later, Donkey Three escaped from prison. Although he had made a meritorious report, he was still sentenced to serve his sentence in the county jail.

After surveying the scene and observing for a while, Zhang Sanlang understood the reason for the conflict between the two sides.

One of the men, wearing a hat askew, bumped into a little boy, who fell to the ground, dropping the honey from his hand and getting covered in dust.

The little boy's father squatted down to help his child up, then looked up at the thug and said, "You hit someone, apologize and pay compensation."

The man with the tilted hat laughed, glanced back at his companion, and said, "Apologize? Do you know who I am?"

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A few thugs behind him laughed.

The little boy's father stood up. He was short and dressed in a gray cloth short jacket. He patted the dust off the child with his left hand and pushed him behind him.

The man with the tilted hat took a step forward, poked the man's chest with his finger, and said, "I'm not apologizing, and I'm not paying compensation. What are you going to do about it?"

Before he could finish speaking, the man flipped his left hand, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it outwards.

The boy with the crooked hat let out a scream, half of his body tilted to the side, his face turning bright red, "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!"

Two other thugs pounced on him, one throwing a punch and the other kicking.

The man loosened his hat, dodged the fist, and kicked the second thug in the knee. The man's legs buckled, and he knelt on the ground.

The third thug kicked at him, but the man didn't retreat; instead, he advanced and elbowed the thug in the thigh. The thug was sent flying sideways, his head hitting the hitching post on the side of the road with a dull thud.

The three thugs fell to the ground, groaning and crying.

The onlookers gasped in surprise, some cheered, while others stepped back.

The man with the crooked hat got up from the ground, pulled a short stick from his waist, and the other two also struggled to their feet, grabbing their sticks as well. The man stood there, his left hand hanging at his side, watching them expressionlessly.

The man with the crooked hat swung a stick at him, but the man dodged it by tilting his head. He grabbed the end of the stick with his left hand, pulled it into his arms, and the man with the crooked hat lunged at him.

The man's knee struck his stomach, causing him to bend over like a shrimp, and the stick slipped from his hand.

The man snatched the short stick and swung it backhand, striking the crooked-hatted man's arm with a crack. The man clutched his arm and rolled on the ground in agony.

Two other men rushed up. One of the men swept a stick across the back of a man's leg, causing him to kneel down. He then struck the man's shin with the stick, and the sound of bones breaking was heard by the onlookers.

The third man turned to run, but the man caught up in two steps and swung a stick at him on the back. The man fell to the ground, and the man stepped on his hand and hit him on the back of the head with the stick.

The three thugs lay on the ground, their legs twisted, and their groans could be heard all over the street.

No one in the crowd dared to approach; they all stared at the man in shock.

Street fights are not uncommon, but such ruthless attacks are truly rare!

Even if those three thugs aren't crippled, they'll probably be bedridden for two or three months. This kind of situation usually requires government intervention and could land them in jail!

The man threw the short stick on the ground, dusted off his sleeves, turned around and walked to the child's side. He squatted down and touched the child's head. "It's alright now."

The child still had tears on his face, but when he saw the three thugs lying on the ground groaning, he clapped his hands and laughed.

The archers patrolling the streets finally arrived.

I recognized the leader, Zhang Sanlang. His surname was Wang, and like Lao Liu, he was one of Wu Yan's ten generals.

Wang Shi glanced at the three thugs rolling on the ground, then at the father and son, and frowned.

The man with the crooked hat, arms crossed, lay on the ground shouting, "Brother Wang, he's assaulting us! We were just walking along peacefully when he suddenly attacked us! He broke our arms and legs! We can't get up without thirty strings of cash! Please arrest him!"

The other two joined in the shouting, one yelling "using violence to injure people" and the other yelling "lawlessness".

Some onlookers grimaced, but no one said a word.

Wang Shijiang looked at the man and was about to speak when Zhang Sanlang stepped out from the crowd, "Wang Shijiang."

When Wang Shi saw him, he smiled and cupped his hands in greeting, "Zhang Qianxing, you're here too?"

Zhang Sanlang nodded and pointed to the three thugs on the ground. "I saw it from the teahouse entrance. Han Waizi bumped into the kid first, then refused to apologize or pay, and even started hitting him. This guy can't just stand there and take the beating."

Wang Shi glanced at the man, then at the three short sticks on the ground, and made up his mind. The key was that Zhang Sanlang had intervened; the truth of the matter was no longer important.

He waved to the archers behind him, "Lock these up and take them back."

The man with the crooked hat panicked, "Brother Wang! He's the one who injured us! Why are you locking us up?"

Wang Shi ignored him, and his bowmen came up and dragged the three thugs up from the ground.

His hat was askew, his arm was broken, he stood up but fell down again, and two archers had to carry him.

Another person had a broken leg and a broken arm, and they were being dragged along, their cries fading into the distance.

Seeing that everyone had left, the man clasped his hands in a fist salute to Zhang Sanlang, who was still standing there, and asked, "May I ask this brother's name?"

Zhang Sanlang returned the greeting with clasped hands, glanced at the man's empty right sleeve, and smiled meaningfully, "Zhang Shouli, a minor official in the county government, may I ask your name, sir?"

The man remained expressionless. "Sun Jizu, a retired soldier."