Chapter Sixteen: Cui Daolin (Part Two)

Tianjin Bridge was a marketplace on the northern bank of the Luo River, owned by the Zheng family for three centuries. Everyone on this street relied on the Zhengs for their livelihood—selling ironware and forging farm tools, all under the An Yuan Hall’s name.

As soon as Cui Daolin arrived, he announced the shutdown of Tianjin Bridge’s marketplace, planning to drive out all the local residents.

How could Zheng Shian possibly agree?

Cui Daolin said, “Steward Zheng, this isn’t my decision—it’s the Young Master’s. These years, business at Tianjin Bridge’s marketplace has already declined… Every year, just supporting these people costs nearly ten thousand coins. I’m thinking of the Zheng family’s interests; otherwise, how long can we keep pouring in so much money with no end in sight?

“And besides, you’re in Xingyang, not familiar with Chang’an’s affairs. Lately, the court has placed more emphasis on Luoyang, even considering it for an auxiliary capital. Repairs are only a matter of time. Once Luoyang is rebuilt, Tianjin Bridge’s street will certainly become prosperous again, so the Young Master plans to transform it into restaurants and music halls… You know how much it costs for him to establish himself in Luoyang. If we improve Tianjin Bridge, it might ease the pressure on the Master’s side. Besides, the Young Master isn’t abandoning those people—hasn’t he arranged for them to move to the estate? Old steward, you must see the bigger picture.”

It was true: the marketplace at Tianjin Bridge had long operated at a loss, barely sustained by Zheng family charity.

But if those people were sent to the estate, what would become of the tenant farmers already there?

Outside the main hall, Zheng Yanqing overheard the quarrel and stepped forward, only to be blocked by a young man.

“Where did this little bastard come from, barging into the main hall? Get lost!”

As he spoke, the young man reached to shove Yanqing aside.

Yanqing recognized him—it was Cui Daolin’s only son, Cui Sheng. It seemed Cui Sheng didn’t know Yanqing, likely assuming he was just another child of some family member living in the old Luoyang house. His words were rude, clearly implying: Steward Zheng, is this how you manage the old residence?

Yanqing’s brow furrowed. He hooked Cui Sheng’s arm, pulled back sharply, stepped forward, and with a twist of his body and a thrust of his knee and shoulder, knocked Cui Sheng to the ground with a thud. Yanqing had studied martial arts for years, and with Sun Simiao’s guidance, had considerable strength. Cui Sheng, caught off guard, stumbled and fell.

“Yanqing, show some respect!”

Zheng Shian hurriedly called out, his voice cold. “This bastard is my grandson. I wonder, Chief Steward Cui, what do you intend to do about it?”

Cui Daolin’s face darkened, then quickly split into a smile.

“Cui Sheng, mind your manners… Apologize to Steward Zheng.

“My apologies. My son didn’t realize Steward Zheng had a grandson—please forgive his offense!”

Zheng Shian’s face flushed scarlet.

Cui Daolin’s words were laced with venom. He was mocking Zheng Shian for being a cripple with no sons—so where did this “grandson” come from? The implication: he was a bastard.

How could Yanqing not hear the hidden barb? Seeing Zheng Shian struggling to control his anger, he quickly took hold of his hand.

“Grandfather!”

He smiled brightly. “It’s nothing—just a misunderstanding. Chief Steward Cui doesn’t know me; that’s perfectly natural. Have you forgotten? The old master once had a beloved black dog, who fathered a litter of spotted pups with a mongrel. They barked all day long. One of them even bit you, didn’t it? Didn’t the master have it killed to avenge you? And what did the master say…?

“Oh yes, he said, if you’re bitten by a dog, it doesn’t mean you should bite it back.”

Cui Daolin’s face flushed crimson with rage.

No one present was a fool. Yanqing’s words were loaded with meaning. First, he likened Cui Daolin to a tail-wagging black dog, and Cui Sheng to a mongrel pup. Second, he soothed Zheng Shian’s temper, urging him not to stoop to the level of petty men. Third, he subtly warned Cui Daolin: yes, Zheng Renji calls the shots in Luoyang, but don’t forget, he’s the son of Master Zheng, and it’s still Master Zheng who truly rules over An Yuan Hall. Master Zheng might forgive Zheng Renji, but dealing with a fawning servant like you would be effortless.

A smile appeared on Zheng Shian’s face at this.

But Cui Daolin, though furious, dared not show it. If he lost his temper now, wouldn’t that be admitting he was the sycophantic black dog relying on Zheng Renji?

He forced a smile. “I’ve long heard the old steward had a remarkable grandson. Today proves it true indeed.

“But let’s get back to business. About Tianjin Bridge’s marketplace—please, leave it to me. From now on, you’ll be in charge of the estate. The Young Master will be here in a few days and there’s much to do.”

Yanqing realized at once—Cui Daolin was exiling Zheng Shian! Overseeing the estate was a far cry from serving as the family’s chief steward.

Though Zheng Shian was seething, Yanqing gripped his hand tightly, and he managed to suppress his anger.

“If the Young Master has entrusted Luoyang’s affairs to Chief Steward Cui, I can rest easy. Yanqing, pack our things. We’ll leave for the estate today.”

With a cold laugh, Zheng Shian took Yanqing and left.

Xu Shiji wanted to intervene but knew he was too young and powerless. Besides, Yanqing glanced at him and subtly gestured not to interfere—he clearly had his reasons.

“Grandfather, later, find someone trustworthy to quietly warn the men at Tianjin Bridge—they should know Chief Steward Cui is planning to drive them out. Also, send word to the estate immediately. But be careful not to leave any evidence. Let’s not rush to leave—let’s stay here tonight and go tomorrow. There’s nothing he can do about it.”

If Cui Daolin wanted to make Zheng Shian the scapegoat, Yanqing would see to it that the dirt landed on Cui Daolin instead.

As for what would happen next…

Zheng Shian started, surprised by Yanqing’s words, but nodded gently.

Just then, Zheng Weishan came their way. Zheng Shian smiled and called out, “Weishan, my grandson and I will be settling at the estate from tomorrow. You must serve the Young Master well. These days you’ve worked hard—come have a drink with me later. Don’t refuse; I’ll be waiting.”

Zheng Weishan had heard the news but dared not slight Zheng Shian. Zheng Renji might not value him now, but who knew what the future held? Besides, Zheng Shian had an outstanding grandson—who could say what might come of that? Prestige is inherited; perhaps Yanqing would achieve great things.

“Old steward, let’s drink till we’re drunk.”

Zheng family members naturally stood closer to their own. No matter how powerful Cui Daolin was now, he could never erase the fact that they were both Zhengs. Zheng Weishan wasn’t afraid of Cui Daolin. After all, Zheng Weishan was a skilled fighter—a rarity. Even if Zheng Renji took over An Yuan Hall, he’d never dare trouble him.

As the saying went, with real ability, who’s afraid of anything?

Father and son Cui stood in the main hall, watching Zheng Shian and Yanqing’s retreating figures, their faces so dark as to be almost dripping.

“That old eunuch is too arrogant—and that little bastard, simply intolerable.

“Father, we can’t let this go. After all these years hiding from that old eunuch, now that we have the upper hand, how can we let him act so high and mighty?”

Cui Daolin said, “That old thing relies on the old master’s favor to behave so wildly.

“Don’t worry—I have ways to deal with him. Now that the Young Lady is in charge of Luoyang, I won’t let this matter rest!”