“We ran into bandits last night,” Liu Tie said, head lowered, recounting the events.
Last night, he led the cart team to deliver goods to the county. Just as they entered Copper Mountain, bandits stopped them.
Without a word, they seized everything, beat Liu Tie and the escorts, and demanded a monthly toll of one hundred taels of silver.
“Brother Feng, I’ve let you and Brother Liang down, losing all those goods,” Liu Tie said, ashamed.
Since the textile workshop expanded into a factory, production had multiplied, as had the need for raw materials.
Even with Jin Feng adding a dozen more carts to reduce trips, they still needed to go to Jinchuan County every five or six days.
With bandits setting up checkpoints at Copper Mountain, they were bound to discover the night deliveries eventually.
Jin Feng knew this wasn’t Liu Tie’s fault.
He patted Liu Tie’s shoulder. “Brother Tie, it’s fine. Goods can be lost, as long as people are safe.”
Hearing this, Liu Tie slapped himself. “Brother Feng, Huzi…”
“What happened to Huzi?” Jin Feng’s heart tightened.
Huzi, Zhang Liang’s fifteen-year-old cousin, was the only son of a family that lost two brothers in the war. He had been helping with deliveries from the start. If something happened to him, Jin Feng wouldn’t know how to face Zhang Liang.
“The bandits broke Huzi’s leg. The bone was exposed. I knew Old Tan couldn’t handle it and feared Huzi would be crippled, so I took him to the county doctor,” Liu Tie said. “The doctor reset the bone and said he should recover. I left him there to avoid jostling the injury on the way back.”
“You did the right thing, Brother Tie. People come first,” Jin Feng said, exhaling in relief.
As long as Huzi was alive, there was hope.
Old Tan, the village’s barefoot doctor, likely knew less about medicine than Jin Feng. If Liu Tie had brought Huzi back to him, a limp would be the best outcome.
In this hot weather, a major wound like a fracture could easily get infected. Without antibiotics, Huzi’s life could have been at risk.
“Brother Feng, the doctor said Huzi can’t do heavy work for a year or two,” Liu Tie added.
“That’s fine. Once he’s better, I’ll arrange light work for him until he’s fully recovered,” Jin Feng said. “I’ll also take care of his family.”
“Brother Feng, I thank you on Huzi’s behalf,” Liu Tie said, bowing.
Feeling empathy, as he did the same work as Huzi, Liu Tie knew Huzi’s fate could be his own. In this era, inability to do heavy work often meant starvation.
He had added that detail to see how Jin Feng would handle it.
With Jin Feng’s assurance, Liu Tie was finally at ease.
“Oh, Brother Feng, the bandits took all our money. When we got to the county, we met Constable Zhang, who lent us five taels of silver for Huzi’s treatment,” Liu Tie said.
“Got it,” Jin Feng said, pulling a ten-tael silver ingot from his pocket. “Constable Zhang, thank you.”
“Mr. Jin, what’s this?” Constable Zhang’s face showed displeasure. “I escorted Brother Tie and the others back to protect them from the bandits, not to collect a debt.”
“Exactly. Without Constable Zhang, we wouldn’t have made it back so easily,” Liu Tie nodded.
“Then I owe you even more thanks,” Jin Feng said, pushing the ingot forward. “Constable Zhang, you’ve done us a great favour. I can’t let you cover the medical costs too. How could we trouble you again in the future?”
In truth, Constable Zhang’s salary wasn’t high. Five taels was significant, and his earlier refusal was mere politeness.
“Since you put it that way, I’ll accept it,” Constable Zhang said, slightly embarrassed, eyeing the ingot. “Do you have smaller silver? I can’t make change.”
“No need for change. The rest is for you to buy some wine,” Jin Feng said, pressing the ingot into his hand. “Don’t think it’s too little.”
With the matter settled, Constable Zhang pocketed the silver, then gave Jin Feng a subtle look, glancing at Liu Tie and Guan Xiaorou.
Jin Feng understood and turned to Guan Xiaorou. “Xiaorou, get some money. Give five hundred wen to each injured brother to calm their nerves, and two thousand wen to Huzi’s mother. Tell her not to worry, I’ll take care of Huzi.”
“Brother Feng, except for Huzi, we’re all fine,” Liu Tie protested.
“Brother Tie, listen to me. Everyone worked hard this time. Take the injured brothers to Old Tan for some herbal poultices, then take a few days off,” Jin Feng said. “Go on, I need to discuss something with Constable Zhang.”
“Alright,” Liu Tie said, saluting Jin Feng and Constable Zhang before leaving with Guan Xiaorou.
“Constable Zhang, please sit,” Jin Feng said, leading him to the table and pouring a cup of water.
“Mr. Jin, do you know where the Copper Mountain bandits come from?” Constable Zhang asked, ignoring the water.
“I know, Iron Jar Mountain,” Jin Feng nodded.
“Do you know the background of the Iron Jar Mountain bandits?” Constable Zhang asked.
“That, I don’t know,” Jin Feng shook his head. “Please enlighten me.”
He recalled Qing Huai mentioning that the major bandit groups in Jinchuan had official backing.
But the county office wasn’t just the magistrate. There were the deputy magistrate, the registrar, the sheriff, and other powerful roles, with tangled interests. Jin Feng didn’t know whose pawn the Iron Jar Mountain bandits were.
Since Constable Zhang raised the question, Jin Feng trusted he would provide the answer.
Sure enough, Constable Zhang glanced around, lowered his voice, and said, “The Iron Jar Mountain bandits belong to Scribe Zhou. They pay thirty percent of their annual grain tribute to him.”
The Iron Jar Mountain bandits controlled nearly all the towns west of Jinchuan County, extorting grain from dozens of villages, a substantial sum.
Thirty percent of that was far more than a scribe’s salary, even significant for Qing Huai.
“Does Scribe Zhou have a big background?” Jin Feng asked, frowning.
In Dakang, a scribe was like a secretary to the county magistrate, often wielding influence in their name.
But when it came to real money, a powerless scribe couldn’t possibly swallow such a large sum.
Jin Feng’s first thought was that Scribe Zhou was the magistrate’s puppet, but he quickly dismissed it.
If Scribe Zhou was the magistrate’s man, Constable Zhang would have said the bandits were backed by the magistrate, not mentioned Scribe Zhou.
