Making Peace

About the time it took to burn an incense stick later, Niu Baoyuan returned and told everyone, "Deputy Captain Zhong from the military office is fighting Ren Baokang of the Iron Fist Martial Hall in the private room next door."

Old Lan glanced at Liu Jiali and smiled as though nothing had happened. "Ignore them. Let's keep drinking. Come on, Old Liu, bottoms up."

Everyone continued drinking, but Liu Yuanzhou felt that the atmosphere was no longer as lively as before.

Liu Yuanzhou asked Niu Baoyuan, "Who are Deputy Captain Zhong and Ren Baokang?"

Niu Baoyuan lowered his voice. "Deputy Captain Zhong is the vice-captain of Squad A in our yamen's military office. He's a martial artist. Ren Baokang is the son of Hall Master Ren from Yan Province City's Iron Fist Martial Hall, and he's also a martial artist who has entered the Ming Jin Realm."

Understanding dawned on Liu Yuanzhou. Martial artists were fighting next door—no wonder everyone at the table had become uncomfortable.

Just then, Third Master Feng, the owner of the restaurant, hurriedly pushed open the door and entered. He went straight to Liu Jiali and Old Lan, saying, "Master Lan, Master Liu, I beg you two to do me this favor. Please go next door and talk those two into stopping. If they keep fighting, my restaurant will be torn apart."

Yet Liu Jiali and Old Lan both lowered their heads in silence, each hoping the other would take the lead. Their hearts were as clear as mirrors: trying to break up the fight might not work, and could even leave them covered in trouble.

Though in terms of official duties, a steward corresponded to a military office squad captain and ranked one level above a vice-captain, martial artists had always been unruly and arrogant. They never paid any heed to stewards and assistants from the civil branch.

Seeing the two Stewards Liu pretending to be fools, Third Master Feng nearly pleaded, "Please, you two, say something."

Liu Jiali said, "Master Lan, you've always been highly respected. Why don't you go speak with them? I'm sure they'll give you some face. I won't make a fool of myself."

Old Lan waved his hands repeatedly. "It would be more suitable for you to go, Brother Liu. I... my stomach is upset. I need to use the privy." As he spoke, he rose to his feet.

Liu Jiali hurriedly stood and pressed him back into his seat.

At that moment, another burst of clattering and banging came from outside, accompanied by curses and shouts.

Third Master Feng trembled with heartache at the sound. Gritting his teeth, he said, "Please stop declining. Consider it a favor owed to you by the Feng family. I ask you both to go and speak with them together."

With matters brought to this point, Liu and Lan could no longer refuse. It was not that they feared Third Master Feng, but that he had deep connections within the Prefectural Yamen.

"Fine, we'll go try to talk them down. But let me make the ugly words clear first: we can't guarantee it will work," Old Lan said with a bitter smile.

Third Master Feng nodded again and again.

Now that they had decided, Liu and Lan hesitated no longer. They had Third Master Feng lead the way and brought everyone out of the private room in a grand procession.

The fight was taking place in Private Room Number Three, with only one room separating it from Private Room Number One.

When they arrived outside Private Room Number Three, they saw its door standing wide open. Looking through the doorway, they could vaguely make out two groups facing off inside.

Third Master Feng entered first, with Liu Jiali and Steward Lan close behind. Liu Yuanzhou hurried past Steward Guan and the other two, stepping forward to stay right behind Liu Jiali.

He was worried that if a fight broke out later, he could at least shield his granduncle for a moment. Fists and feet had no eyes; though he could not defeat a martial artist, he could still block a blow or two.

Liu Jiali nodded inwardly, thinking that his own nephew truly cared for his safety. He felt deeply gratified.

The group entered the private room. Third Master Feng stopped far away and pleaded, "Everyone, please hold your hands. There's room for words, there's room for words."

Liu Yuanzhou sized up both sides of the fight. One side had four or five people, all dressed in fitted martial attire; the other side had only two. A dining table stood between them, though it had already been overturned, with bowls, chopsticks, cups, plates, food, and dishes scattered across the floor.

Among the group in martial attire, one man sat in a chair. He was around thirty, with rough, rugged features, and was likely their leader—Deputy Captain Zhong. He said impatiently, "I'm telling you, Third Master Feng, this has nothing to do with you. Keep talking, and I'll beat you too."

"Old Lan, Steward Liu, you came at just the right time. Hurry and judge who's right here," the young man standing at the front of the other pair called out indignantly, though a hint of delight appeared on his face. This man was likely Ren Baokang.

Deputy Captain Zhong shouted, "Ren Baokang, cut the nonsense. Either hand him over, or pay up. Even if the Heavenly King himself came today, it wouldn't do a damn thing."

After saying that, he turned to Liu and Lan, expressionless. "Steward Lan, Steward Liu, this is none of your business. Go do whatever you should be doing. Otherwise, if things start up later and you two get hit, that wouldn't be good."

Steward Lan narrowed his eyes and said with a genial smile, "Deputy Captain Zhong, don't get angry. This truly had nothing to do with us at first, but first, Boss Feng came to ask me for help; second, I have a bit of friendship with Hall Master Ren. Couldn't we sit down and talk this through slowly? Don't resort to violence. If Gathering of Immortals Pavilion really gets wrecked, no one will look good."

Deputy Captain Zhong said lazily, "Fine. I said it earlier too: as long as they choose one—either compensate me or hand over the man—I'll immediately leave with my brothers. I'll also compensate the tables and chairs that were damaged at their proper price."

Ren Baokang roared, "Zhong, you're fucking spouting nonsense! What do you mean, compensate you? How much is that piece of junk even worth?"

He looked again toward Old Lan and the others, saying furiously, "You judge this for me. This friend and I were having dinner." He pointed at the man behind him, who had kept his head lowered the entire time, making his appearance impossible to see clearly. "Then Zhong barged in with his men, flipped our table without a word, and tried to take my friend away."

"Luckily, I know a little martial arts, so he didn't succeed. I asked what he wanted. He said my friend had broken one of his jars earlier and needed to compensate him. I asked how much. Guess how much he demanded—two hundred taels of silver."

Having said that, he pointed to a dull gray jar on the ground, now broken into two halves. "Tell me, is this broken jar worth two hundred taels?"

Liu Yuanzhou looked over. It was merely an ordinary jar for holding food, worth a few copper coins at most. He then looked at Deputy Captain Zhong and saw him calmly picking at his nails without offering any rebuttal.

The men behind him started shouting over one another, saying that the jar was a family heirloom antique, that Ren Baokang was blind as a bat, that he had to pay, and so on.

How could that be some valuable antique? Deputy Captain Zhong's group was clearly trying to extort them. Everyone understood this perfectly well.

"Deputy Captain Zhong, two hundred taels really is too much. Could you ask for a little less?" Liu Jiali said. He intended to muddle things through; as long as they did not start fighting and could settle on an amount both sides could accept, their task would be complete.

"Since Steward Liu has spoken, I have to give you some face. Make it one hundred eighty taels, then," Deputy Captain Zhong said.

Two hundred taels was no small sum. It was enough to buy a house with a courtyard in a remote part of the city, nearly equivalent to two years of expenses for a comfortably-off family of five in the city.

"Bullshit. I don't want to give one tael of silver for your broken jar," Ren Baokang snapped.

"Haha, Steward Liu, see? It's not that I refuse to give you face. It's that he refuses to give you face," Deputy Captain Zhong laughed loudly.

Liu Jiali's face immediately turned awkward, and he said nothing more. It seemed neither side wanted to negotiate.

"What could possibly be worth two hundred taels of silver? This old man would like to have a look as well," someone suddenly interjected from outside the private room.

Everyone looked over and saw an elderly man standing outside the door at some unknown moment. His face was dark, and his pair of eyes were exceptionally sharp.

"Father, you're here!" Ren Baokang cried in delight.

Deputy Captain Zhong immediately rose to his feet, his face no longer as relaxed as before.

Steward Lan and the others blocking the doorway moved apart to either side, making way for him.

With his hands clasped behind his back, the old man strolled in. He nodded to Steward Lan and Liu Jiali by way of greeting, and the two hurriedly cupped their hands in return.

The old man's steps were calm and unhurried, his bearing extraordinary. He was none other than Ren Taihe, Hall Master of the Iron Fist Martial Hall.

Ren Taihe walked up to his son and said lightly, "You may go back first."

Ren Baokang immediately pulled the man behind him away and left. Deputy Captain Zhong's face turned livid, but he did not try to stop them and simply watched them depart.

For a moment, the private room fell so quiet that a needle dropping could be heard.

"Hehe, since there is no treasure, this old man shall take his leave as well." Ren Taihe cupped his hands and turned to go.

"I heard Hall Master Ren's Iron Fist has reached Major Accomplishment. I would like to receive a lesson," Deputy Captain Zhong suddenly said. Before his words had even fallen, he struck a palm toward Ren Taihe's back.

Ren Taihe seemed to have been prepared. Without turning around, he shifted sideways and swung out his right fist.

With a bang, their palms met and separated at once. Deputy Captain Zhong staggered back several steps, his right arm shaking uncontrollably and his face flushed red. The men behind him immediately stepped forward and surrounded him.

Hall Master Ren, meanwhile, merely swayed slightly. His feet had not moved at all. Comparing the two, who stood higher and who stood lower was obvious at a glance.

Hall Master Ren flicked his sleeve, glanced at Deputy Captain Zhong, and snorted coldly before walking out of the private room with his hands behind his back.