“First, I want to thank three men from the bottom of my heart: Big Brother Han, Big Brother Tang, and Uncle Zhao.”
Jin Feng rose and gave the trio a solemn bow. “You risked your lives to bring warning. Words cannot repay that.”
“Sir wiped out Lantern Mountain and avenged my father. A message is the least I could do,” Han Feng said.
“Sir rids bandits for the people. It’s only right. By the time I fetched help, you’d already smashed them,” Tang Fei laughed.
“Sir took in my whole family. I’m Xihewan now. Letting bandits touch our home? Never. Though my warning turned out needless,” Zhao Laoshan added.
“Useful or not, your hearts were true. That deserves thanks.”
Jin Feng nodded to Tang Xiaobei. She carried in a lacquered tray holding three fifty-tael ingots, gleaming like moonlight.
Xiaobei had argued against fifty taels; mountain folk might lose their heads over sudden wealth. Jin Feng insisted. He saw rare qualities in these three and planned to use them. This silver was also a test. If fifty taels turned their minds, they could never be trusted with real responsibility.
“No refusal, please. You earned this.”
He pressed an ingot into each calloused palm.
“Too much, too much!”
All three backed away, waving hands as if the silver burned.
“Xihewan rewards merit and punishes fault. Others wait their turn. Refuse and you break the rule,” Jin Feng said firmly.
“Aye, we’re still queuing for ours!” Zheng Fang and Iron Hammer teased.
The three finally pocketed the ingots, bowing thanks until their foreheads nearly scraped the floor.
“Old Tang, Old Han, will you join Zhenyuan Escort Agency?”
“YES, SIR!” The hunters nodded so hard their necks creaked.
“Good. Tomorrow, fetch your families. Dongdong, Village Chief, settle them well. Anyone wants work, find them a bench or a loom.”
Remove worries at home, bind loyalty with care. Classic Jin Feng.
“Understood,” Chief and Dongdong answered together.
“Thank you, Mr Jin!” Han Feng and Tang Fei choked out, half-laughing, half-crying.
Fifty taels in pocket, escort badges tomorrow, jobs for wives and children; they felt drunk without touching wine.
“Old Tang, after settling in, report to Old Zheng for scout duty. Old Han, find Brother Liang and follow his lead.”
“Got it!”
“Feng-ge, one thing,” the Village Chief said, scratching his beard. “While you were away, I feared the village couldn’t hold. Without asking, I promised the refugees: any who fought beside us would earn full Xihewan rights; double pay, escort trials, everything.”
He watched Jin Feng, stomach tight. Breaking that promise would shame him before every newcomer.
“You did exactly right,” Jin Feng said at once. “Hard times reveal true kin. Anyone who stood with us in our darkest hour is Xihewan born. Your word is my word. Honour it.”
The Chief exhaled like a punctured bellows.
“Speaking of newcomers, here’s my thought, since we’re all together.”
Jin Feng spread a rough map. “I’ll buy the empty land between Xihewan and Guanjiawan. Build veteran-style brick dorms. Call it Xihewan Second Ward. Move every refugee family there. Thoughts?”
“Smart,” Dongdong said. “One wall joins two villages, easier to guard.”
“But our own folk still sleep under thatch,” Xiaobei worried. “Brick for outsiders, grass for kin; tongues will wag.”
“Lease, not gift,” Jin Feng corrected. “Only families who sent fighters today may rent. Villagers who want brick can rent too, if they pay. Fair across the board.”
Dongdong nodded. “That works.”
“Second Ward needs a warden. Uncle Zhao, will you take the post?”
Zhao Laoshan had rallied hundreds in minutes and carried authority among the refugees. Perfect.
“Agree!” the Chief boomed. “Without Old Zhao we’d still be arguing in the square. I hear you ran your old village fifteen years before bandits burned it. No excuses, old friend.”
“Agree!”
“Agree!”
The table thumped approval.
“Then Second Ward is yours, Warden Zhao.”
“I’ll guard it with these old bones, sir. Count on me.”
Jin Feng smiled. No fake humility, no endless demurrals. Zhao simply shouldered the load. Refreshing.
Other business followed: kiln shifts, soap shipments, winter coal. Talk ran past nine bells.
When the room emptied, Jin Feng kept Zhang Liang back and sent for Xiao Yu, still on watch.
“Sir?” Xiao Yu entered, spine straight, voice steady. Months of drills had forged the giddy girl into quiet steel.
“Sit. This bandit fight exposed a crack big enough to swallow us. We fix it now, or Xihewan will never sleep safe.”
Zhang Liang and Xiao Yu leant forward together.
“What crack?”
