Getting It Done

"Perhaps Wei He couldn't hold back and secretly made a move against our people."

One hall master guessed as much.

"Wei He? That is possible..." The Four-Ping Gang leader neither confirmed nor denied it.

"But when we suppress the bandits tomorrow, he won't be able to strut around anymore."

"Changgeng, go over tomorrow's plan with them once more." He looked at Huo Changgeng.

"Yes, Gang Leader..."

Huo Changgeng hurriedly answered.

Afternoon.

Cheng Yang went to find Guo Shulan.

"Junior Sister Guo, once you return to the Guo Household, you can tell your father that the Bamboo Gang matter has been thoroughly settled."

Guo Shulan's lips parted slightly.

"Senior Brother Cheng, you reached an agreement with those Bamboo Gang people so quickly?"

"Yes, they have already promised me that they will no longer collect road tolls from the Guo Household..."

Cheng Yang said solemnly.

After all, how the hell could dead men collect tolls?

"Thank you, Senior Brother Cheng." Guo Shulan cupped her fists in thanks.

Cheng Yang waved a hand.

"Money in one hand, work done with the other. There's nothing to thank me for."

"If you want to verify it, just send a Guo Household caravan down that official road. If the Bamboo Gang stops you again, put it all on my account."

"Understood. I'll go back and inform my father right away..."

Guo Shulan moved quickly. After temporarily leaving Spring Renewal Hall in someone else's care, she immediately left the martial arts hall and hurried toward the Guo Household.

Guo Household.

"Father, Senior Brother Cheng said he has already reached an agreement with those people from the Bamboo Gang. He said they will no longer charge our Guo Household tolls from now on."

Guo Qingping's face twitched.

"Really? He truly said that?"

At the same time, he wondered whether the Bamboo Gang could really be so easy to deal with.

Or perhaps...

Cheng Yang had asked Chen Feiyi to act.

The Bamboo Gang might already have...

"Yes. He also said that if our Guo Household sends a caravan along the old route, we'll know. If there is any problem, he will take responsibility." Guo Shulan relayed the words in Cheng Yang's manner.

"Good. I'll arrange a caravan at once."

Guo Qingping spoke quickly.

Because of the Bamboo Gang's threat, the Guo Household had not gone to the prefectural city to purchase goods for over a month. As a result, their stored cloth materials were nearly depleted, and their business in Qinglin County was about to run out of stock.

Left with no other choice, they had gone to Cheng Yang to see if he could help.

Guo Qingping would rather let that cheap nephew of his carve off a chunk than send rivers of silver, fistful after fistful, to those bandits of the Bamboo Gang.

Guo Qingping was a man of action.

Once he made up his mind, he no longer hesitated.

After receiving definite word from Guo Shulan, he set down his teacup and immediately summoned Steward Liu from the warehouse.

Steward Liu had worked for the Guo Household for over ten years. He was a lean man in his fifties, and the wind and sand had worn his eyes thin and narrow, leaving him with three parts wariness in every glance.

After hearing Guo Qingping's arrangements, he asked no questions. He merely nodded and turned to prepare the carts in the rear courtyard.

For this trip, the caravan traveled much lighter than usual.

The three flatbed carts carried only dry provisions, waterskins, several rolls of coarse hemp cloth for cushioning goods, and a bundle of spare axles. The truly valuable items were all in the oilcloth bundle tucked against Steward Liu's chest: three hundred taels in banknotes and some loose silver, the capital for purchasing goods in the prefectural city.

When they left the city, Guo Qingping and Li Ru stood at the courtyard gate to see them off. They watched the three empty carts turn out of the alley one after another and vanish into the evening dusk at the street corner.

Guo Qingping stared in the direction where the carts had disappeared, unconsciously tightening his grip on the teacup in his hand.

Steward Liu, on the other hand, was the calmest of them all. Riding his gray donkey at the head of the caravan, he narrowed his eyes and swept them over every bend in the official road ahead, every patch of tree shadow, his ears pricked for movement in the wind.

He had traveled this road for over ten years. Even with his eyes closed, he could count every mile along the way. But ever since the Bamboo Gang had set up camp outside the city, the road had become unfamiliar. Every bend seemed to hide figures behind it, every patch of shade seemed to crouch with swordsmen.

Last month, on this very road, a merchant caravan returning from the prefectural city had been intercepted as soon as it emerged from the mountain pass. Half their goods had been taken, their people beaten, and their leader had spent half a month in bed before he could barely get back on his feet.

Ever since then, the Guo Household caravan had not traveled this road again.

But the materials in the warehouse would not last much longer. If they did not go to the prefectural city to restock, their shops in Qinglin County would have no choice but to close.

The four assistants were all old hands who had followed Steward Liu for years. Though they appeared fairly composed, their steps were noticeably quicker than usual.

The three flatbed carts headed north along the official road. Their wheels creaked over loose stones, the sound bouncing back and forth between the mountain walls on either side, as though something were following behind them.

After traveling for over an hour, the road began to slope upward. The mountain walls on both sides gradually narrowed, and the woods grew denser.

Steward Liu's donkey slowed. He raised a hand to signal the assistants behind him to stop, then urged the donkey a few steps forward. Standing at the mouth of the most dangerous bend, he looked ahead.

It was the only level clearing in the mountain pass.

He had expected to see a dozen or so crooked wooden huts, several piles of dying campfire embers, and bandits carrying blades as they prowled the roadside.

But what appeared before him now was another scene entirely.

The wooden huts were still there, but their doors hung crookedly half-open, and the window paper had been blown into tatters by the wind.

Broken roof tiles, snapped rope ends, several flattened burlap sacks, and a pool of unidentifiable filth already blackened in color lay scattered across the packed mud before the huts.

Only a few charred pieces of wood remained from the campfire. Soaked by rain and then dried by the sun, they had cracked into ash-gray fragments.

There was no one there.

The wind moaned as it passed through the broken windows. Other than that, there was not the slightest sound of living creatures.

Steward Liu sat on the donkey's back for a moment, scanning the abandoned camp from top to bottom. His eyelids gradually relaxed. He turned and called to the assistants behind him, "Let's go. It's fine."

The four assistants exchanged glances. No one asked unnecessary questions. They simply pushed the carts silently past the edge of the mountain pass.

As they passed the clearing, each of them turned to look several times. The fallen doors, torn window paper, and brown stains on the ground were like something whose page had been turned, leaving behind a few creases to prove that something had once been there.

When they emerged from the mountain pass, the sun was already leaning westward. The official road ahead opened up again, with fields and villages on both sides. From time to time, farmers carrying loads passed along the roadside. Everything was as ordinary as any day over the past ten years.

Steward Liu let out a long breath from atop his donkey and glanced back. The mountain pass was mostly hidden by the bend in the road and the tree shadows now, with only the outline of a wooden roof exposed, slowly fading into the dusk.

He reached out and pressed the bundle of banknotes against his chest. At last, a long-lost curve tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Move faster," he called to the assistants. "Let's reach the prefectural city before dark. Tonight, I'll treat you all to something hot."

The news returned to the Guo Household faster than the caravan.

That evening, an assistant sent ahead rode a fast horse back from the road. He charged through the Guo Household gates, leaving a string of half-dried red mud prints across the stone slabs.

Before he had even found his footing at the entrance to the main hall, he shouted, "Master! We got through! The Bamboo Gang's stronghold is empty! The road is clear all the way!"

Guo Qingping nearly failed to hold his teacup steady. Tea sloshed out onto the back of his hand, but he did not feel the burn. Rising to his feet, he stared at the assistant. "What? Empty?"

"Empty! The huts are still there, but the people are gone! There was even..." The assistant choked and did not speak of the details. He only nodded hard. "Anyway, we didn't encounter any obstruction at all!"

Guo Qingping slowly sat back down in his chair. Holding half a bowl of tea, he sat there blankly for a long while before setting it down, the corners of his mouth irresistibly lifting upward.

Hearing the commotion, Li Ru hurried in from the inner room. After listening to the assistant repeat the news, she froze at the doorway and covered her mouth.

"He really did it..." she murmured, her voice soft and trembling.

Guo Qingping did not reply. He simply raised his teacup and took another sip.

The tea had already gone cold, yet he felt warmth spread from his throat all the way to his chest.

That nephew who had bargained with him expressionlessly in the hall, that young man who had said, "We talk only of profit, never of feelings," had truly dealt with the Bamboo Gang.

"The remaining payment." Guo Qingping set down his teacup and rose, walking toward the accounting room. "Prepare the rest of the silver. I'll deliver it myself."

Li Ru did not stop him. She stood at the doorway and watched her husband's back pass through the corridor as the night wind blew in from the courtyard, carrying the chill of late autumn.

She drew her clothes tighter around herself and stood in the dusk for a long time. Several times, she opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end, not a single word left her lips.