The nun-like girl hadn't run far before she was abruptly dragged back.
She struggled with all her might, but the brocade-robed man covered her mouth, holding her firmly despite her frantic punches and kicks.
The brocade-robed man, wary yet ingratiating, grinned and said:
"Kids don't understand manners, speaking out of turn."
As he spoke, his feet subtly moved backward, and his accompanying thugs subdued the boy, who trembled but dared not act.
Min Ning narrowed his eyes.
The brocade-robed man grew visibly tense, glancing around as his n placed their hands on their waist knives.
The swordsman stepped forward.
Cold sweat dripped from the group's foreheads, their teeth chattering audibly.
"Brothers under the sa banner, we all share the sa drink," Min Ning paused before speaking, "This little one looks decent. Share so money with ."
The brocade-robed man froze briefly, then wiped away his sweat and forced a laugh:
"Ah, yes, of course. Fellow brothers, which path do you hail from?"
"Golden Peak."
Golden Peak refers to the Imperial Palace, the Golden Throne. Coming from Golden Peak ans coming from the Capital City. Upon hearing this coded phrase, Zhao Yuanwang understood imdiately.
Initially assuming they were so righteous swordsn standing up for justice, in the end, they turned out to be greenwood bandits from another road.
Zhao Yuanwang, who traded in human trafficking across various regions, naturally recognized Capital City's underground slang. These people seed like outsiders, over-the-river dragons. Since they wanted a cut, it would not be wise to dismiss them lightly.
"What's the deal with these two little ones?" Min Ning asked.
"They're… um… so kind of Daoist seeds or Buddhist seeds. In short, they're gifted boys and girls ant to be sold to immortal families."
Zhao Yuanwang chuckled obsequiously, gesturing for his n to lower their weapons, intending to give so money to smooth things over.
The girl's complexion grew increasingly pale, her gaze spiraling into hopelessness.
Min Ning glanced at her briefly and said:
"Seems they're worth quite a bit of silver. Let na my amount: thirty percent."
Zhao Yuanwang's eyes widened as his hand, halfway to his pocket, froze. Thirty percent was a significant sum that he currently couldn't afford.
One of the four n couldn't hold back and said, "This brother isn't being fair, is he? Thirty percent for just a word?"
Min Ning spoke slowly, "Ensuring your safe passage."
Zhao Yuanwang imdiately glanced at the dead spider demon on the ground, deliberated a mont, then clenched his teeth and said, "Alright, thirty percent it is. Once we deliver the goods, you'll get your full share."
Min Ning curled his lips into a smile and said, "I trust you won't shortchange ."
Deliver the Buddha all the way west…
When they arrive, take them all in one sweep.
.........
That day, the great fire at Yuanfeng Building burned furiously, destroying the surrounding hos and leaving the theatrical troupe's residence charred black.
The troupe rented the place, and now with Yuanfeng Building in ruins, they naturally had to move out. Moreover, after the fire, Huang Jing spent all his fortune, attracting envy from those who once admired the troupe's prosperous days, as they flocked to demand money. Overwheld, Master Fang had co to terms with his past grandeur and now only wished to leave this trouble behind.
Shantong City remained impoverished, and with Huang Jing dead, there was no one to sustain the theatrical troupe.
The troupe's pensions naturally fell under the governnt's responsibility, as did those of Yuanfeng Building's servants and staff.
As for why the normally aloof county governnt was suddenly so accommodating, Master Fang was well aware whose influence was behind it.
"Commander Min, in our profession, we worship Emperor Tang as our patron deity. Daily practice is nothing but vocal exercises and leg drills, often training for hours on end. But even then, it's not enough to step onto the stage..."
Master Fang chatted animatedly with Chen Yi, recounting the hardships the troupe had endured over the years.
For only one reason–Chen Yi could bring them money.
Even if it was governnt-issued Great Yu banknotes, having pensions was better than having none. As for the recent deaths and injuries, Master Fang seed to have set those mories aside.
In the lower rungs of society, who hasn't seen death and injury?
"Those injured and the ones who've died, how does Master Fang plan to handle them?" Chen Yi wasn't keen on idle chatter; his visit with Dong Gong Ruoshu here was not rely to check on Little Peach but to inquire into the troupe's post-disaster arrangents.
"Those injured will be given a bit of money and scattered to fend for themselves."
When money ca up, Master Fang winced and rubbed his thumbs together for a while before saying:
"The ones who've died… I'll dig into my private savings to buy them decent coffins for burial… but the funerals won't be elaborate."
"Good."
Chen Yi glanced at the courtyard in front of him. Amidst the blackened ashes, nearing noon, a dining table was set out. A large bowl of hot soup, a few plates of cured at and pickles, and so stacked naan bread made up the al. The troupe's perforrs gathered together to eat, with n and won eating separately. Typically, the n ate first, followed by the won.
At the mont, it was the won's turn to eat.
The perforrs' appearances varied, their fair skin glowing more prominently under the tree's shadows. Chen Yi had heard that perforrs joining the troupe started by being locked in dark rooms for a month, erging only after their skin had paled, their figures slimd, and their personalities stripped of sharp edges—ready then to learn the art of performing.
"Anything Commander Min has taken a fancy to?"
Master Fang lowered his voice to ask.
Chen Yi shook his head, dismissing the unwelco deference with:
"I'm not fond of theater."
"Ah... ah… I was presumptuous. I thought you'd taken an interest in Little Peach since you stood up for her back then."
Master Fang sighed and continued, "Everyone has their way of living, their reason for existence. Little Peach has la legs now. From here on… she won't be able to earn a living from the troupe."
"She's taken care of, thanks to my friend. You don't need to worry about her."
"Indeed, indeed." Master Fang nodded in agreent, a faint hint of greed creeping into his tone as he added, "Little Peach was bought by the troupe for three hundred taels..."
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