Guangyuan County has been a fortress for entering and leaving Sichuan since ancient times, a key military stronghold contested by strategists, so its city walls were built over three zhang high, stretching so far that the end cannot be seen.
A soldier holding a spear leaned lazily against the battlements, idly watching the passersby below.
Outside the walls, there were countless marks from sword slashes, axe chops, and fire scorching, and the ground beneath the walls was a different colour from elsewhere, clearly soaked with blood many times.
Everything spoke of the brutal battles that had once taken place here.
Jin Feng and his group arrived at the south gate, perhaps the armour on the female soldiers alerted the guards, as when Jin Feng’s party approached, the soldiers lounging by the gate picked up their weapons.
A Mei snorted coldly, stepped forward, and showed a token, the guards’ expressions changed instantly, they didn’t even check the identity plaques and respectfully let the group pass.
Inside the gate was a stone road over ten metres wide, muddy from the rain the previous day and the dirt brought by pedestrians’ shoes.
But this didn’t dampen the vendors’ enthusiasm, their shouts filled both sides of the road, creating a lively atmosphere.
“Brother-in-law, is this the county city? It’s so bustling!”
Xiao E poked her head out of the carriage, excitedly looking around, “Wow, candied haws, and look, someone’s selling dough figurines…”
“No wonder it’s the county city, so many people even in the afternoon, Jinchuan would have empty streets by now.”
Guan Xiaorou and Run Niang, visiting the county city for the first time, were equally curious, gazing at the sights.
Tang Dongdong, who grew up in the county city, was used to it, but her face was gloomy, clearly recalling something upsetting.
The veteran soldiers, though curious, stayed vigilant, observing the passersby.
Their group, all carrying swords and the female soldiers in armour, looked formidable, so people moved aside to let them pass.
In his past life, Jin Feng had seen night markets far livelier and squeezed through packed subways, but this was his first time seeing so many people in ancient clothing and buildings, like visiting a film set.
However, the clothes and buildings were monotonous, the novelty wore off after two streets, and Jin Feng found it dull.
Noticing Tang Dongdong’s expression, he slowed down and smiled, “Dongdong, where are we staying tonight?”
Tang Dongdong snapped out of her thoughts, forcing a smile, “Let’s stay at Zhao’s Inn, it’s close to the brokerage, turn left at the next intersection, then go three more intersections.”
Jin Feng chatted with Tang Dongdong for a while, and the carriage stopped at an inn.
The inn was large, its front a three-storey wooden building in classic Chinese style, with carved beams, painted rafters, and upturned eaves, quite charming.
“Gentlemen, here for a meal or to stay?”
The waiter, seeing the large group, knew it was good business and greeted them with a smile.
“To stay, do you have a courtyard?” Tie Chui asked.
“Sir, you’re in luck at Zhao’s Inn, we have the best courtyards in the county!” the waiter said eagerly.
“Fine, lead the way.”
Tie Chui tossed a small string of coins to the waiter, “Pick us a good courtyard, if there are rats or bugs, I’ll break your legs!”
“No worries, sir, you’ll be comfortable and want to come back,” the waiter said, pocketing the coins with a grin, bowing as he led them to a courtyard.
“This is our biggest courtyard, ten rooms, a separate kitchen, bathhouse, and stables at the back, perfect for you.”
The waiter opened the gate, “Are you satisfied, sir?”
Tie Chui didn’t answer, looking to Jin Feng.
Jin Feng glanced around, the courtyard was spacious and quiet, so he nodded slightly.
“Alright, this will do, get some people to feed the horses and heat water, we all need baths,” Tie Chui said, tossing a ten-tael silver ingot to the waiter.
“Right away, sir, I’ll get it done!” the waiter replied, running off with the silver.
Soon, six or seven workers arrived, some leading horses, others heating water.
After yesterday’s rain, everyone felt sticky and uncomfortable, so they took turns bathing, and by then, night had fallen.
The courtyard had its own kitchen, Run Niang offered to cook, but Jin Feng stopped her.
“We’re out for once, we should try the inn’s chef’s skills, right?”
Money is for spending, Jin Feng had Tie Chui call the waiter, ordering the inn’s best banquet and, unusually, several jars of their signature wine.
The veterans, rarely treated to such luxury, excitedly raised their bowls to toast Jin Feng.
Dakang’s wine was low in alcohol, but too much beer can intoxicate, Jin Feng didn’t even know how he got back to his room, sleeping until late morning.
“Dear, you’re finally awake, Mu Lan and Dongdong came by twice,” Guan Xiaorou said, bringing a bowl of warm water, “Rinse your mouth, Run Niang made sour soup, I’ll get it.”
Jin Feng took the water, casually asking, “What did Qing Mulang and Dongdong want?”
“You got drunk last night, insisting on singing and reciting poetry,” Guan Xiaorou said, giving him a look, “Drink less next time, but your singing was nice, and the poetry was good, you stunned Mu Lan and Dongdong.”
*Cough cough!*
Jin Feng choked in surprise.
“I recited poetry? What poetry? What did I sing?”
“‘Arise, ye slaves afflicted by cold and hunger, arise, ye wretched of the earth,’ I forgot the rest,” Guan Xiaorou said, mimicking a few lines, “I don’t remember all the poetry, but something about ‘a fine steed, a fur worth a thousand gold, call the boy to trade for fine wine, to drown eternal sorrows,’ and you told Tie Chui to sell the warhorse for wine…”
She covered her mouth, laughing, “You keep denying you’re fond of Dongdong, but last night you pulled her to drink a cross-cup toast.”
“Stop…” Jin Feng said, rubbing his forehead with a wry smile, “Qing Mulang and Dongdong came to mock me, didn’t they?”
“I don’t know, but they didn’t seem to be laughing, they looked serious,” Guan Xiaorou said, “Oh, dear, what’s an air conditioner?”
“I mentioned an air conditioner?” Jin Feng jumped up, “What else did I say?”
“Not much, just that the inn’s wine was bad, the food average, and the rooms poor,” Guan Xiaorou said, thinking, “Then you started singing and reciting poetry, drinking with Mu Lan and Dongdong, and putting an arm around Run Niang’s shoulder.”
“Get Mu Lan and Dongdong for me,” Jin Feng said, knowing their early visits meant he’d said something significant.
