Chapter Thirty-Three: Victory Snatched Away

In his previous life, the nation Feng Jingzhe defended always adhered to the principle: “If others do not offend me, I will not offend them; if others offend me, I will retaliate twice as hard.” As a professional soldier, he had made this creed his guiding rule in life.

Whether it was being poisoned or thrown into a river before he arrived in this world, those were old grudges from another time, so Feng Jingzhe could ignore them and choose to set them aside. But Zheng Yongxiang was different. He and his steward named Wang had repeatedly made trouble in front of Feng Jingzhe.

For such revolting characters, Feng Jingzhe would either not bother at all, or he’d stomp them ruthlessly. And indeed, his blow was heavy, though he cared little for how much pain it caused. After Zheng Yongxiang was carried away that day, many people in the crowd flocked to the Zheng Family Pharmacy.

The show was over, the curtain had fallen. Everyone had been busy for more than twenty days; now it was time to divide the spoils on the spot!

Once everything was tallied, Sun Fugui, feeling refreshed and proud, headed toward the Feng family mansion. Following him were four burly waiters from the restaurant, their fists as large as soup pots.

Times had changed. The same shoulder bag, which used to carry only a few dozen taels at most when collecting debts, now bulged with a thick stack of silver notes—no more, no less, exactly twenty-three thousand taels.

In the eyes of all the citizens of Chang’an, Sun Fugui and Feng Jingzhe were seen as victims. They certainly hadn’t made any money; just breaking even was a blessing. They’d bought powdered coptis mixed with yellow earth, only discovering the deception halfway through delivery.

Some curious souls calculated that, counting transport and costs, they’d lost at least a hundred taels of silver. Naturally, some sharp minds sensed something was amiss, but their attention was soon drawn to the Zheng Family Pharmacy.

The reason was simple: the place had been lively these days. The street outside the pharmacy was more exciting than any temple fair. The Golden Guards had been dispatched twice, creating such a stir that the news of Food Is Heaven’s young proprietor losing money was no longer of any interest.

Just as Feng Jingzhe welcomed Sun Fugui inside and shut the heavy doors, a double-shafted carriage could be seen slowly approaching from the far end of the street.

“Madam, Miss, we’re finally home…”

The coachman was a small old man of about fifty, his temples streaked with gray. His features were distinctive: thick brows, large eyes, and a round potato-like face—clearly the elderly version of Shin-chan. Without question, he was Li Changsheng’s father.

The carriage curtain was gently lifted, and a beautiful, lively face appeared. The young woman was about twenty, dressed in yellow silk, her hair simply styled in a single bun with a plain silver hairpin.

“Miss, mind your step…”

She leapt gracefully from the carriage and stood beside it, then turned back to help another passenger.

“Mother, take it slow. Let me help you down.”

The next to alight was a white-haired old lady, at least sixty, older than the coachman by many years. She held a candied hawthorn stick and, when her daughter reached out, smiled mischievously.

“Oh dear! Aman, Aman, Little White is still on the carriage… Quick, quick, bring it down…”

Her voice was anxious, stomping her feet like a child.

“Little White is here… right here… it won’t get lost…”

The old man hurriedly fetched a cream-colored puppy from the carriage. The old lady promptly took it, hugging it tightly.

“Good dog! Aman says this is our new home. From now on, Little White lives here!”

The old man watched quietly, sighing inwardly.

Indeed, these three were the Feng family just arrived from Pingyang. The young woman was Feng Xiaoman, the eldest daughter of the Feng family whom Li Changsheng always spoke of.

The old lady was Feng Jingzhe’s mother, surnamed Jiang, given name Xuanfeng—Feng Nantian’s first wife. Jiang Xuanfeng had three sons and a daughter. After her eldest son Feng Shuangjiang and second son Feng Bailu both died in battle, she developed a brain disorder.

Her attacks came irregularly, lasting anywhere from half an hour to three days, during which her mind reverted to that of a child. Despite consulting many famous doctors, the Feng family found no cure.

Feng Jingzhe and Feng Xiaoman were late-born twins, arriving when their elder brothers were already grown.

The commotion at the gate soon drew the attention of neighbors. Feng Xiaoman, unwilling for others to see her mother’s illness, told the old man to quickly knock on the door.

He knocked loudly, but after a long wait, no one answered.

“This is outrageous! That rascal Changsheng must be up to no good…”

The old man’s throat was hoarse from shouting, and seeing Feng Xiaoman’s increasingly gloomy face, he trembled in fear.

“Madam, Young Miss, don’t worry. Perhaps Third Young Master and Changsheng are out. I’m good at climbing walls…”

He chuckled, searching for a spot, but his aged limbs failed him, and he couldn’t reach the top.

Just as he was about to try again, someone pulled him back.

“Don’t waste your strength. Keep an eye on my mother…”

Standing in the corner, Feng Xiaoman, without visible effort, leapt over the high wall as if she were a flying swallow.

Soon, the door, which had been deliberately bolted twice, was unlocked from inside.

Feng Xiaoman then supported her mother and headed straight to the back chambers. With every step, the old man clearly saw a shadow slowly spreading across the sky above.

“It’s over, it’s over, it’s over… Those two rascals are doomed…” He hurriedly drove the carriage into the mansion, not bothering to unhitch the shafts, then ran after them.

Meanwhile, the two young masters and Sun Fugui were squatting beside the latrine in the back garden, counting silver notes.

Why not sit comfortably in the hall? Why choose such an odd spot? It was all for the sake of ritual. According to countless stories from those who came before, the best way to divide spoils without risk of exposure was to do so by the latrine.

“Third Brother, after all expenses, we made a profit of twenty-three thousand taels. Here’s the ledger for you to check…”

“Check it for what? I trust your work!” Feng Jingzhe rubbed his hands in excitement; after all, over twenty thousand taels lay before him.

“As we agreed, after deducting six thousand taels, you get seventy percent of the rest. Third Brother, this is yours…”

“Why are we deducting six thousand taels?” Li Changsheng protested at the sudden cut.

“Sigh… We caught a big fish. Don’t forget our first investment…”

“The guy from the Liu family in Runan… I think his name was Liu Lei…”

“Yes, he lent us five thousand taels, and Third Brother promised double interest. That makes six thousand taels in total…”

Feng Jingzhe was surprised, secretly admiring the man’s meticulousness. Maybe, if a good venture came up, he’d try to involve him.

But now, it didn’t matter. Deduct six thousand, and over ten thousand remained.

“Who cares! Come, let’s split the money… We’ve slaughtered a big fish, tonight I’m treating at Red Sleeves Pavilion…”

No sooner had he spoken than the latrine door was kicked open. In a flash, the stack of silver notes in Feng Jingzhe’s hand vanished.

More shocking still, the thief was the one person against whom they had no power to resist…