Just as Yang Zhengshan entered Zheng Mansion, the Zhang Family also received the news from the West City gate.
Tenglong Guard had entered Prefecture City, Luo Fu and Xu Huazhen had been captured, and Tenglong Guard had taken over the city defenses one after another and sealed off the Salt Transport Commission yamen.
As each piece of news came back, the Zhang Family head, Zhang Maosheng, stood beneath the eaves, looking at the bright sky.
Zhang Maosheng was already seventy years old this year. His back was slightly hunched, his beard and hair were entirely white, and his face was covered in wrinkles, but his pair of cloudy yet deep eyes were like a dark pool, making it impossible for anyone to see through them.
In the hall behind Zhang Maosheng, meanwhile, the Zhang Family's eldest son, Zhang Qingsong, and second son, Zhang Qingyun, both wore anxious expressions.
"Dad, Lord Luo has been captured. Shouldn't we do something?" Zhang Qingsong asked.
Zhang Maosheng did not speak. Instead, he walked into the hall, picked up the pipe bowl set on the table, slowly pinched a bit of tobacco into it, then lit it with a fire striker.
He took a fierce drag, then exhaled a long stream of smoke.
"Our Zhang Family has been merchants for generations. By now, it has been more than three hundred years. In these three hundred years, we have encountered countless crises, but every time, we have passed through them safely. Do you know why?"
Zhang Maosheng asked softly.
Zhang Qingsong and Zhang Qingyun looked at each other, anxiety in both their eyes, but they still forced themselves to be patient and asked, "Why?"
"Why?" Zhang Maosheng smiled, holding the pipe bowl as he once again stood beneath the eaves. "Because we never take part in