Chapter 67 Part 2

Li Cunxin handed the ink-dipped bamboo stick to Zhao Penglai, smiling. “We’re not that particular. Having ink to use is already pretty good.”

Zhao Penglai took the bamboo stick and wrote a few characters on the paper. The handwriting had strong character and structure. After writing, he held the paper in one hand and the bamboo stick in the other as if holding a calligraphy brush. He closed his eyes, tilted his chin up slightly, and let out a slow, extended breath from deep in his throat.

Li Cunxin asked, “How is it?”

Zhao Penglai opened his eyes and looked at her, filled with melancholy. “How should I put it… having paper and ink gives me a kind of… grounded feeling that’s hard to describe.”

Li Cunxin took the bamboo stick back, dipped it in ink again, and was about to write.

Feng Huai burst in from outside, bracing himself against the doorframe. Catching his breath, he panted, “Village Chief, bad news. There’s about to be a fight.”

“Who’s about to fight?”

“Yu Muyang. They’ve caught the people who were digging up our notoginseng and potatoes.”

Li Cunxin put down the paper and bamboo stick and hurried out after Feng Huai. “Where are they?”

Feng Huai said, “At Chang Yue and An Ning’s place.”

Zhao Penglai and Shen Hu exchanged a look. Zhao Penglai initially wanted to follow, but after a second thought, he told Shen Hu to help him find Wen Mi instead.

Li Cunxin and Feng Huai went straight to Chang Yue and An Ning’s house. Five men had been brought there.

Even from outside, you could hear the fury filling the house, the earth-shattering roars of voices tearing at throats.

“Get your facts straight! You were the ones stealing our notoginseng and potatoes—we caught you. Who are you glaring and shouting at!”

“Say that again! Who stole your stuff!” The voices of the five captured men were uneven but equally furious. Their eyes bulged, equally ferocious.

“What, you want to fight?!” Yu Muyang yelled. The village men around him pressed closer, bumping shoulders against the captives.

The five captives’ eyes nearly popped out, their teeth grinding audibly. One of them, shoved and staggering backward, reached out and violently pushed back the person who’d shoved him.

The shoved villager’s temper flared instantly. He grabbed the man’s clothes.

Both sides shouted. The villagers, with superior numbers, surged forward like a rising tide, voice after voice. Despite being outnumbered, the captives were like fighting cocks, necks craning, veins bulging and twitching, voices tearing. Their momentum wasn’t suppressed in the slightest.

The two sides pushed and shoved, grabbing at clothes and collars.

Li Cunxin rushed in, shouting, “Don’t fight! Don’t fight!”

Her voice was nearly drowned in the wave of noise. Fire practically sparked from the eyes of both sides. With the other side not letting go, how could they back down first?

Li Cunxin shouted, “Yu Muyang, Miao Bing, let go!”

Reluctantly, Yu Muyang released his grip and snarled at the man holding his clothes, “Get your paws off me!”

The others gradually let go as well.

Li Cunxin scanned the room. There were thirteen or fourteen people. Chang Yue and An Ning were standing by the back door. Yu Muyang and a few other men stood in front and back, bracketing the five captives in the middle.

Li Cunxin studied the five men. Their attire was quite interesting. Besides the modern clothing immediately identifiable, two of them wore t-shirts that looked smooth and fine, with the texture of silk. But they didn’t seem to be modern craftsmanship. They were garments sewn from plain, undyed, unprinted, unembroidered cloth, with stitching not as fine as modern machine sewing.

A thought surfaced in Li Cunxin’s mind: This was cloth produced in this world.

The clothing of all five was, without exception, extremely dirty. Their clothes looked as if they, like Yu Muyang after working at the brick kiln, were coated in soot and grime, permeated with sweat and various water stains and mud—layered into a filthy, nondescript color.

The five men’s eyeballs bulged. Some had yellowed whites; others were shot through with blood. All shot out sharp rays from their eyes. Their expressions, without exception, were highly agitated. This agitation wasn’t something momentarily sparked by the altercation with Yu Muyang’s group. It was more like a mental state taut from long-term stress, a string in their heads pulled to the absolute limit, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

The man confronting Yu Muyang had the most robust build. He had a buzz cut and angular features. Li Cunxin asked him, “What’s your name?”

The man didn’t speak. Yu Muyang said, “She asked you a question. You gone mute?!”

Li Cunxin said, “I’m the village chief here. My name is Li Cunxin. If you have any issues, you can tell me.”

The man stared at Li Cunxin and sullenly reported his name. “Zhang Hejun.”

Li Cunxin said, “Was it you who dug up the notoginseng from our field?”

Zhang Hejun’s neck instantly thickened, turning red. Under everyone’s eyes, he seemed to suppress a breath and grunted, “Yeah.”

Miao Bing, at the side, briefed Li Cunxin on the capture. This group had brazenly trespassed onto their field in broad daylight. Before they could even start digging, the three wolves detected them, howled, and lunged, biting at the people. Villagers who heard the commotion swarmed over and seized the group. There had been six people total; one had escaped.

Hearing that this group had been chased and bitten by wolves, Li Cunxin quickly scanned them for injuries. She noticed one person on the far side was standing on the toes of one foot. The pant leg on his calf had been torn, and there were wounds on his leg. Though not deep, a trail of blood ran down his calf.

Li Cunxin said, “One of you is injured. Let’s treat that wound first.”

Meanwhile, Yu Muyang pressed on after Zhang Hejun’s admission. “You say you dug up the notoginseng. Don’t tell me you thought these neatly arranged fields, these crops growing in patches, and the shelters built for the notoginseng—that all of it was just wild, ownerless land!”

Zhang Hejun’s chest heaved. Suppressing his anger, he gritted out, “I already told you. We asked one of your villagers. Someone from your side explicitly agreed. We could dig, and only then did we dig! And those potatoes—we didn’t just take them for nothing. We traded copperware for them!”

“Then what’s his name? Where does he live?”

Zhang Hejun’s jaw muscles twitched. After a long pause, unable to produce a name, he said stiffly under Yu Muyang and the others’ mocking stares, “Call all your villagers over. We’ll identify him face to face, right now!”

Yu Muyang, hearing this commanding tone, immediately snorted coldly. “You think our villagers have nothing better to do? Do you know how many people are in our village, to demand they all be called over?”

Of these exchanges, Li Cunxin only half-heard with her left ear, catching fragmented information, because her right ear was also filled with shouting.

The man beside Zhang Hejun didn’t appreciate her offer to treat the wound first. He said to her, “You were the ones who set your dogs on us and bit our brother’s leg. Now you come pretending to be concerned.”

Miao Bing’s temper flared. He jabbed a finger at the man’s nose. “Watch how you speak!”

“Am I wrong?”

Li Cunxin frowned. Both sides were shouting and arguing, too many people, tempers too high. There was simply no way to talk properly. She called out, “Yu Muyang, take them outside first.”

Li Cunxin raised her voice again, “Yu Muyang!”

Yu Muyang shot Zhang Hejun a cold glare and herded his own people out.

Miao Bing was still telling the man, “You’re our prisoners right now! We’re being polite enough not tying you up, and you’re still getting cocky!”

Li Cunxin said, “Enough. Stop talking now–stop. Outside.”

The man retorted, “What prisoners, pah. A tiger fallen to the plains, bullied by dogs.”

Yu Muyang halted mid-step and whirled around, glaring at the man. “Who are you calling a dog!”

“Whoever answers!”

The people who were about to leave all stopped. Forehead veins bulged.

Yu Muyang turned, strode over to the man, and threw a punch.

This was a spark falling into a barrel of gasoline. Explosion.

The man seemed to lose all reason. His eyes were blood-red, screaming curses, and with the momentum of someone fighting to the death, he charged forward and began grappling with Yu Muyang.

“Stop!” Li Cunxin shouted. “Miao Bing, pull them apart!”

The villagers surged forward, but they were pulling one-sidedly.

Zhang Hejun and the other three, seeing their companion surrounded, rushed in to help.

A dozen or so people tangled into a chaotic mass. Every face was twisted. Curses filled the air, cursing the other side’s ancestors up to the eighteenth generation. Li Cunxin had never heard so many swear words in her entire life.

These people shoved and wrestled, rolling on the ground. You pinned me and pummeled me; I flipped you over. Tables overturned, chairs toppled, the brawl spreading from east to west.

Chang Yue and An Ning stood by the door, wanting to help but utterly unable to intervene.

Li Cunxin looked outside, only now remembering she’d come in a hurry and hadn’t called Wen Mi. She still wasn’t used to directing that guard team. In her heart, it always felt awkward and strange, so she often forgot their existence.

Suddenly, Li Cunxin heard a cracking sound behind her—like a jar shattering. Her heart lurched.

A faint, sourish smell, nearly alcoholic, from something fermenting, wafted past her nose. She turned to look.

That jar of fermenting plum wine—Chang Yue had placed it near the wall. The wine, awaited for months, nearly ready, had been knocked over against the stone plinth. The wine jar was broken, a large hole gaping. Faintly red liquid, mixed with thick, strongly-scented fruit pulp, spilled all over the floor.