"My Lord, this humble one knows his mistake! Please be magnanimous and forgive this lowly man!"
"Now you're afraid?" Fang Zichen said coldly. "Where was this fear before? Pay up."
Only now did Qiu's second son realize exactly who Fang Zichen was. He dared not say a single word.
Old Master Qiu's heart ached at the thought of paying, but he had no choice—the Qin family soldiers had them surrounded. If Fang Zichen was bold enough to do this in broad daylight, it meant he didn't care what the townsfolk might say. Playing the pitiful victim was useless now. Looking around, he saw not a trace of sympathy from the crowd—on the contrary, they looked like they were enjoying the show.
Old Master Qiu's heart bled as he handed over the banknotes.
Fang Zichen took the money, smiled, and twisted the knife a little deeper: "This isn't over yet."
Old Master Qiu's head shot up. His breath caught, and he collapsed on the spot.
"Father!"
"Master!"
The Qiu family rushed to support Old Master Qiu and carry him back home. Fang Zichen had already walked off. The gathered crowd immediately burst into chatter.
"So this is our new prefect? I heard he was supposed to be a good one. But after today... he doesn't look like it at all! He's even worse than the last prefect—that black-hearted old scoundrel!"
How could anyone be so underhanded? It was completely unreasonable—bullying people with his power!
But another bystander took offense at that.
"What do you know? If you don't understand, keep your mouth shut!"
"What don't I understand? Hey now, are you only defending him because he's handsome, or what—"
"Aunt Qin, say less. You're the one in the wrong here."
"Exactly. Comparing Lord Fang to that old black-hearted snake—you really have no sense."
"Right!"
Seeing no one take her side, Aunt Qin felt wronged.
Cheating someone out of dozens of taels over a single chick—that was clearly not the act of a good person. No matter how one looked at it, it was unjust. So what was wrong with her saying a few words?
When she got home, her husband took one look at her sour face and asked what had happened, whether someone had bullied her outside, and who it was, so he could go and settle the score for her.
Aunt Qin told him everything. Her husband frowned. "How could you talk about Lord Fang that way? Aren't you afraid of getting your head lopped off? Besides, if you think about it, the Qiu family had it coming."
"How were they asking for it?" Aunt Qin asked.
Her husband explained.
These days, every village had cement roads built. The townsfolk were all curious and went down to the villages to see for themselves—and they were green with envy.
Every village had them—bright, smooth roads. When villagers came to sell their produce, everyone would ask, "Oh, sister, you're early today! Usually, you don't get here this fast."
"The village has a new road. Easy walk—of course I'm fast."
Or, "Hey, you're only just getting here and I've already sold half my goods! Whoa, how'd you get so much mud on your shoes? Didn't you take the cement road?"
That person's face went red, and the words came out in awkward mumbles, head hung low. The one who'd asked was baffled, until someone in the know tugged them aside and whispered, "Don't ask anymore. They're from Daoxiang Village."
"What's wrong with Daoxiang Village?"
"Don't you get it? The villagers there are crazy for money. Our prefect offered to build them a road—you know how it works, right? Their village path is too narrow, and the prefect said he'd widen it. Widening it meant taking up some adjoining fields."
"Of course."
"Those Daoxiang villagers demanded one hundred taels per mu from our prefect."
"Wha—no way," the person's jaw dropped. "Those Daoxiang people have lost their minds! One hundred taels per mu? Who gave them the nerve? Even good farmland only goes for eleven or twelve taels per mu!"
"But they said that if the government didn't take it, their land could feed their families for over ten generations. One mu brings in over half a string of cash each autumn harvest. Over ten generations—well, that adds up, doesn't it?"
"That's not how you calculate things."
Not many people knew about this at first. But later, everyone noticed that every village was getting cement roads except Daoxiang—not a single spade of work had been done there. When they asked around, they found out the whole story.
Everyone agreed that Daoxiang Village deserved what they got. And Old Master Qiu was dreaming too sweetly.
"Does the prefect live in your village? Who is this road for? He doesn't even use it! It's for the villagers' convenience! But instead of being grateful, you tried to take advantage of the prefect's good nature. And now he's not building your road—you've brought this on yourselves."
Old Master Qiu failed to get the better of the prefect—that was his own lack of ability. Now he was getting a taste of his own medicine, by the very same reasoning. Back then, the prefect never touched their land—he could simply have said he would not take it, and no one could have forced him. If the cement had already been poured, it would have been a settled matter, and the prefect might have had to pay. But now, the chick had truly been crushed, and compensation was unavoidable.
The Qiu family loved their creative math—very well, the prefect would play by their rules too. If they got cheated, they had no one to blame but themselves.
And they thought they could take on the prefect? What made them think they could cross him? If he had been just a lowly runner with no rank, that would have been one thing—but this was the Prefect himself!
How did Old Master Qiu dare to challenge the prefect's authority? Had he borrowed his courage from a dog?
Hearing all this, Aunt Qin finally agreed that the Qiu family had it coming.
Having made a hundred taels in one outing, Fang Zichen practically floated as he walked. Zhao Ger felt like his feet were treading on clouds too.
Guaizai was so happy his face turned red. Fang Zichen, flush with his ill-gotten money, bought him a whole cage of chicks. The cage was huge—nearly as tall as Guaizai's armpits. It was awkward to carry and too bulky to hold. The chicks chirped noisily inside. Fang Zichen offered to help him carry it, but Guaizai refused, saying he was a man now and could handle it himself—and besides, he had to learn to do his own things. So Fang Zichen watched as he took off his straw hat and hoisted the cage onto his big head.
Fang Zichen: "..."
My son might be from India.
Zhao Ger tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't budge—until two little chick droppings landed on his head. Only then did Guaizai quickly set the cage down.
Fang Zichen watched as Zhao Ger dragged him to the river to wash his hair, sighing deeply, lamenting that his son's intelligence was truly concerning.
Xiao Feng furrowed his brow and turned to him: "Uncle Fang, is this... is this okay?"
He was asking about the Qiu's second son matter.
"What's not okay about it?" Fang Zichen asked.
"They... they don't know the whole story. Will they say you're greedy?"
"Let them talk. I want people to know I'm not a pushover—then no one will dare mess with me. Before this, it was because I was too kind and selfless, with clean sleeves and righteous air—that old fool got confused and tried to climb all over me. Hah, he sure had a pretty dream."
Xiao Feng: "..."
He was almost too embarrassed to listen. His ears felt hot. He glanced at Zhao Ger and saw that he, too, was flushed bright red, utterly mortified.
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