Chapter Sixty-Four: The Old Tricks of the Red Chamber

Hey, brother, exposing someone’s secrets in front of others is hardly moral.

Is this fellow courageous, or simply foolish?

Feng Xiaobao’s eyes flashed dangerously, thunder brewing within. Ding Eleven, standing beside him, felt her knees weaken and fell to the ground, pleading, “Please, young master, forgive Jian Sanlang’s reckless words—he was caught up in the moment, his mind confused…”

“Is that so?” Feng Xiaobao drew out his words.

“Please have mercy!” Ding Eleven begged again and again.

Feng Xiaobao looked at her, suddenly curious. “He’s always against you, yet you plead for him?”

Ding Eleven replied honestly, “I didn’t wish to.”

“Didn’t wish to? Yet you help him?” Feng Xiaobao was astonished.

“The princess once commanded me: she said he’s foolish from reading too much, ignorant of worldly matters, prone to stirring up trouble with his words. I’m to watch over him, and if he gets into trouble, it’s my fault too.” Ding Eleven spoke frankly, then beseeched, “Please, young master, spare his life. Punish him as you see fit.”

Feng Xiaobao burst out laughing. “Since the princess has spoken, I’ll let him off this once!”

“However…” Feng Xiaobao smiled softly, “He slandered his master, which warrants death by the rod, but with the princess’s word, his life is spared. Still, punishment must be served.”

Everyone strained to hear what punishment Feng Xiaobao would mete out.

“He’s old and frail, so corporal punishment is inconvenient. Since his mouth is foul, let him have a mouthful of horse dung!” Feng Xiaobao said lightly. “There’s fresh horse dung here—feed it to him at once!”

“Feng Xiaobao!” Jian Sanlang leapt up, roaring angrily, calling him by name.

“Feng Xiaobao, you paramour, you’re no man!” he bellowed, but Shi Jiulang pressed him down, saying, “You swine, you broke the law and all you get is a mouthful of horse dung and your life spared—you should thank the young master, not complain!”

“Men, seize him!” Shi Jiulang ordered. Several hands pinned Jian Sanlang, someone pinched his nose so he could only open his mouth, while another wrapped fresh horse dung from Feng Xiaobao’s stables in lotus leaves, jeering, “Fresh horse dung coming through!” and stuffed his mouth full.

“Feng Xiaobao, you—” Jian Sanlang raged, but before he could finish, the dung was forced in and he fell silent.

“Hahaha!” Feng Xiaobao, Yang Chengxian, and Cheng Boxi laughed heartily. They were the masters; hearing such a servant slander his lord, they naturally stood united.

The others struggled to suppress their laughter, but seeing even a “milk father” of such status punished so harshly, their hearts were filled with awe.

“You did well!” Tang Tian whispered in his ear. “At our stables, we punish unruly old men the same way when they talk nonsense!”

“Is that so?!” Feng Xiaobao exclaimed, surprised. He thought his punishment was clever, inspired by a story: In Dream of the Red Chamber, Jiao Da (the first Duke’s attendant, who once saved him from a pile of corpses—without Jiao Da, there would be no Duke) drunkenly cursed in public, saying, “Only the stone lions at the gate are clean; the lords are all up to mischief…” and was locked in the woodshed, his mouth stuffed full of horse dung.

Feng Xiaobao had imitated this precedent, feeling quite proud. Who would have thought that the nomadic aristocrats had dealt with stubborn old men the same way for generations? Those elders would commit minor offenses—not serious enough for beating or execution—yet their masters endured their abuse reluctantly. The most fitting punishment was feeding them horse dung. Thus, those old men would think twice before mouthing off again, or else face another serving.

The “milk father’s” fate was plain for all to see; Feng Xiaobao’s authority was firmly established.

Jian Sanlang, after his punishment, retched violently, vomiting until there was nothing left in him, barely clinging to life.

Ding Eleven worried, “Young master, should someone watch over him?”

“No need!” Feng Xiaobao replied. “We’re short-handed; let his family look after him!”

Ding Eleven feared for his safety, but Feng Xiaobao was unconcerned—if Jian Sanlang died, so much the better.

As it turned out, villains endure forever; there was no need to worry about him.

Soon after returning home, Jian Sanlang set out for Luoyang to complain to the princess, while Ding Eleven sent word ahead, informing her of everything.

Feng Xiaobao issued orders to dig ditches and eradicate locusts, with Ding Eleven overseeing the practical work. Feng Xiaobao was merely the figurehead, waiting for results.

That afternoon, everyone gathered for the locust eradication ceremony: a batch of live insects was collected, Feng Xiaobao personally killed several, then shouted, “Locusts, locusts, eat not my grain!” (He felt rather foolish doing this.)

Then the heads of the villa each came forward to kill a few locusts.

“A pledge of loyalty!”

With all having killed locusts, there was no further dispute.

Another night was spent at the villa. The next day, Feng Xiaobao presided over the ditch-digging ceremony. Tang Tian and Tang Zhi Ling remained at the villa, while Yang Chengxian and Cheng Boxi, after lunch, led their teams back to Luoyang City, taking Hong Xiaoshui and Lady Yang with them. They had previously arranged with Feng Xiaobao to house the women temporarily at his small pharmaceutical estate outside the city.

Yang Chengxian and Cheng Boxi, though sons of officials, had little money and no property; Feng Xiaobao too had no house, lodging at the rear of Lao Jun Temple, which was unsuitable for other women (except Tang Tian), so this arrangement was necessary.

Digging the canal was a major matter. Feng Xiaobao initially paid little heed, but after repeated persuasion from Ding Eleven, the village elders, and headmen, Ding Eleven sent a retainer to Luoyang Prefecture to invite Xuanqing from Lao Jun Temple to preside over the event, as well as to extend an invitation to the Princess.

The Princess did not come, but Xuanqing gave his respects and arrived that night, having a heartfelt conversation with Feng Xiaobao.

Xuanqing chose an auspicious hour—around eight in the morning. All the tenant farmers gathered to witness Xuanqing’s ritual.

He set up an incense altar, offering sacrifices to the Earth Dragon. Incense and sandalwood burned, he issued command tokens, drew talismans, drums and music played—all to reassure the people.

In truth, it was a show for the masses: the Taoist communicates with spirits, obtains their permission to commence work, the people are reassured, and construction begins.

Thus, any ill effects from Feng Xiaobao’s forceful approach were dispelled, and the people’s hearts were at ease.

Feng Xiaobao learned a lesson from this: though he managed the crisis, it was only because the troublemakers lacked sophistication; had they been more cunning, he might have faced real problems.

After the ritual, Feng Xiaobao himself took up a hoe and broke the first patch of earth, which was then placed on the incense altar for offering.

The tenant farmers eagerly set to work, digging the canal.

Every working household received a piece of wild boar meat. Apart from the boar king, three more were hunted yesterday—Tang Tian shot them, every arrow true. The boar’s tough hide proved no match for her powerful bow.

With meat to share, the people were delighted.

Feng Xiaobao sat at the edge of the site, watching the workers with a smile, when suddenly two horses galloped up, their riders shouting, “Where is the young master, where is the young master?”

Guided to Feng Xiaobao, they dismounted and urgently reported, “Last night the pharmaceutical estate was attacked—over ten of our men killed or wounded!”

“What?!”