Chapter 48 : Chapter 48

Chapter 48: Golden Pig

In the noodle shop, a massive pot steamed on the huge stove.

The noodle master held the dough over his shoulder with one hand, slicing with a blade in the other, like a hidden blade master of the martial world.

Noodle slices flew into the pot, perfectly thin and thick.

Served in bowls, topped with a ladle of tender beef and broth, it was simple yet delicious.

The stove fire and cooking smoke embodied the humblest essence of marketplace life.

The Heir waved to a waiter: “Waiter, one bowl of knife-cut noodles.”

The waiter, recognizing him, grinned: “Right away, Heir! Coming up!”

I said in surprise: “Heir, the waiters here know you?”

The Heir sat at a wooden table, casually wiping it with his finely made sleeve: “Before Donglin Academy, I came often. At the academy, I missed this taste.”

“As the Heir, you come to this little noodle shop?”

The Heir pulled chopsticks from a table canister: “In the prince’s mansion, food takes a full incense stick’s time to get from the kitchen to your room—cold by the time it arrives. As a kid, I said I wanted to eat in the kitchen, but they called it improper… Not like here, where noodles come hot, add some vinegar, a couple garlic cloves, and it’s pure comfort.”

“The waiters don’t seem to care about your Heir status.”

“Haha,” the Heir said proudly: “Father taught us to be kind, not high and mighty. Don’t you see the neighbors like me? That’s Father’s reputation built over a decade in Luocheng!”

I didn’t press further. An Heir and Prince Jing like this were rare in a world divided by rank and status.

The waiter brought the Heir’s noodles. He rubbed his chopsticks, pouring vinegar, and looked at Princess Baili: “Baili, give him ten taels for that half-line of poetry… Baili?”

Princess Baili snapped back: “What?”

The Heir asked curiously: “What were you thinking about, lost in thought?”

“Oh,” Princess Baili replied: “I was thinking about Chen Ji’s half-line of poetry… I can’t say why, but it feels profound.”

The Heir grinned: “Same here. I like it but can’t say why. Pay up.”

Princess Baili glanced at me, this time without reluctance, and briskly opened her purse, taking out a gold melon seed: “Here, pure gold, worth ten taels at the bank.”

I found it amusing—Princess Baili’s purse held gold melon seeds and silver peanuts, all edible-sounding.

The Heir looked at me, curious: “Got more poems? Sell them all to me for backup.”

“Why so many?” I asked, puzzled.

The Heir laughed: “You don’t get it. One line isn’t enough to impress. Ten, a hundred lines—that’ll shock those scholars.”

I thought for a moment: “Good lines come by chance, not easily crafted. You’ll have to wait.”

Having gone through nine years of compulsory education, who didn’t know dozens of lines?

But I couldn’t reveal too many at once—too many, and they’d lose value…

The Heir grew anxious: “You must’ve written more before. Sell them to me!”

Surprisingly, Princess Baili spoke for me: “Brother, poetry isn’t that easy. Wait for his next good line. Forced poems lack meaning.”

“Fine,” the Heir said, still savoring: “Between heaven and earth, man is but a fleeting traveler.” The more he mulled it, the richer it felt.

Knowing the line was now his, he grabbed a silver peanut from Baili’s purse, slapped it on the table, and shouted: “Boss, I’m in a great mood today. Everyone eating noodles here is on me!”

I raised an eyebrow. Why hadn’t the Heir ever paid himself, always letting Princess Baili foot the bill?

No wonder he took her everywhere—Prince Jing, worried he’d go astray, probably gave him no allowance, so he relied on his sister’s little treasury?

Very likely!

So, the Heir was a fake tycoon, and Princess Baili was the real rich one!

She Dakang reminded: “Chen Ji, we should head back. It’s closing time; Master can’t handle it alone.”

“Right,” I stood, bidding farewell to the Heir and others: “Heir, Princess, we’re off. I’ll set up the ladder tonight.”

The Heir: “…Honest guy, true martial world spirit!”

After I left with the others, Princess Baili looked at the Heir: “Brother, I’m more and more sure he’s not a gambler.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” the Heir said, glancing at the Little Monk chanting softly: “Little Monk, Father said you have the ‘mind-reading’ ability. What do you say?”

The Little Monk smiled: “Donor Chen Ji has a gambling nature, a strong one, but he doesn’t gamble money—he gambles his life. Such people are born to dance on the edge of a blade.”

Princess Baili muttered: “You’re getting more cryptic, Little Monk. Drop the mystique!”

The Little Monk said helplessly: “I’m not being cryptic; I just don’t know how to explain it to you.”

Princess Baili ignored him, turning to the Heir: “Brother, why’d you sneak out too?”

The Heir swallowed a bite of noodles, bit a garlic clove, and mumbled: “Nothing, just came to check.”

…

…

Deep in the night, the spacious shared bed felt cramped with Liang Gou’er and Liang Mao’er.

I rose quietly, took a bamboo tube and stick, and went to the courtyard, scraping layers of white frost from the wall.

Just this small courtyard’s years of accumulated wall frost could fill half a tube. In vast Luocheng, how much gunpowder could I make…

Tonight was the night Consort Yun and the Jing Dynasty’s Military Intelligence Division were to trade goods. I had passed the intelligence to the Division Officer at Hundred Deer Pavilion’s back courtyard while buying clothes in East Market that morning.

Whether their trade succeeded wasn’t my concern.

With Yunyang and Jiaotu in prison and the Secret Spy Division’s new leader yet to arrive, I had a rare moment of peace.

Practicing saber, making explosives, living like an ordinary person—comfortable.

As I scraped wall frost, a soft knock came at the door.

I frowned. Were the martial world folk waiting for the Heir to go out? But he hadn’t come yet.

I hid the bamboo tube behind the water tank and approached the door softly: “Who’s there?”

A friendly voice outside said: “Golden Pig.”

My heart tightened.

Golden Pig of the Secret Spy Division’s Twelve Zodiacs?

So soon!

I’d thought the new Luocheng leader would take at least a month to arrive, giving me time to prepare.

But Golden Pig arrived fast, beyond my expectations—and likely beyond the Military Intelligence Division and Liu Family’s too!

I thought for a moment, took a deep breath, pushed the clinic door open, and smiled: “Is it Lord Golden Pig of the Secret Spy Division?”

Outside stood a chubby young man in straw sandals, a bamboo hat, and coarse cloth clothes, like a tenant farmer fresh from a rural estate.

His warm smile lacked the sinister menace of Yunyang or Jiaotu: “That’s me, Golden Pig of the Secret Spy Division, real name Song Qian. My first task in Luocheng is to find you.”

I stepped aside calmly: “Why Lord Golden Pig? Where are Lords Yunyang and Jiaotu?”

Logically, a clinic apprentice like me shouldn’t know they were arrested by the Chief Punishment Division, so I played the part fully.

Golden Pig entered, surveying the clinic’s main hall, smiling: “Yunyang and Jiaotu caused a huge mess and are now in prison… No one informed you?”

“No,” I shook my head: “Lords Yunyang and Jiaotu treated me well. Why were they jailed?”

Golden Pig shook his head: “You’ve misunderstood them. They probably stole your credit. Don’t worry—this time, no one will take your achievements.”

I probed: “Lord Golden Pig, are you from the capital?”

“No. When Yunyang and Jiaotu arrived in Luocheng, I was already at the Trouble-Solver Guards’ Mengjin camp outside the city. By the way, the Yellow River carp in Mengjin is delicious, especially with local braised sauce—so fragrant.”

I was shocked: “Lord Golden Pig, you’ve been in Luocheng all along?!”