Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Iron Heart Turned Dark

The child’s jade pendant was tied around his neck with a cord. Unable to snap the thick silk thread quickly, and fearing that he might harm either the pendant or the child, Butcher Cui could only pull on the cord with both hands, hoping to break it.

Moving with light steps, Tie Xinyuan passed by and deftly snatched the money pouch from the butcher. He had heard that only the money in this pouch, embroidered with a longevity peach, qualified as the ransom for the Fushou Cave. If this pouch were to end up in prison along with Butcher Cui, the kidnapped child would effectively lose any hope of rescue; he would either be tortured to death by those vicious beggars or sold to a distant land, never to return home.

A woman in green screamed and lunged ferociously, biting into Butcher Cui’s arm. Another young maid in green, already weeping until she was unrecognizable, held the dirty child in a death grip, emitting a shriek that barely sounded human.

Xiao Qiao slowly released her finger from the trigger of her hand crossbow. Had the butcher attempted to harm the child, her small crossbow would have instantly launched a poisoned bolt.

The maid’s screams jolted Butcher Cui out of his dream-like state of robbery. He scrambled to let go, kicked the woman aside, and turned to flee. The woman clung fiercely to his leg, screaming at the top of her lungs for the local constables.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!" Countless gongs rang out. Neighborhood residents, upholding the pact to strike down any thief they encountered, charged from all directions with shouts and cries.

Anxious and searching for an escape route, Butcher Cui saw the crowd surging toward him. He lowered his body, dropping to the ground, and prepared to crawl through a dog hole in the base of the wall to escape.

He had barely squeezed half his body through when he felt a searing, bone-deep pain in his legs. He let out a miserable howl, his strength drained away. He begged for mercy repeatedly, but no one listened.

Xiao Qiao hissed through her teeth, watching as the fierce, frantic old woman repeatedly stabbed a two-inch-long shoe-sole awl into the butcher’s lower body. With every thrust, a spurt of blood erupted. Each time the awl struck, the butcher shrieked. When the woman’s frenzy peaked, she actually straddled the butcher’s back, gripping the awl with both blood-soaked hands and continuing to stab down, over and over.

Tie Xinyuan, tucking the money pouch into his backpack, sniffled and said, "Stop watching. We have other things to do. That woman has been driven to the brink of madness; she won't stop for a while."

"It's the magistrate's son who was lost, not her own. Why is she going so crazy?"

"Losing the magistrate's son has far worse consequences than losing her own child. If a family loses their own toddler, they suffer for a while, and eventually, if they have another, they might move on from the tragedy. But if they lose the magistrate's son, the magistrate will make sure their entire family remembers it for the rest of their lives. They won't be able to forget even if they try."

"So, does that mean I made a mistake with this plan?"

Tie Xinyuan sighed. "Our original plan was to find a young boy from a wealthy family, get him drunk, and leave him here to lure Butcher Cui. Who knew you would go and fetch a two-year-old? Still, a mistake has its merits; it made the situation much more realistic."

"When will you ever learn to follow the plan? The magistrate may be a piece of filth, but his two-year-old son knows nothing. No one would shed a tear if the magistrate died, but if anything happens to this child, your sins will be heavy."

Xiao Qiao retorted angrily, "If you knew that, why didn't you say so earlier?"

Tie Xinyuan glanced at Xiao Qiao and tapped his own head with a finger. "My brain is a bit broken. I’ve grown unaccustomed to offering kindness to everyone by default. I only passively accept the kindness others give me, and then I decide how much to return based on what I’ve received. Clearly, that child is not as important as you are in my eyes. Since the plan could still be carried out, why would I stop it?"

"You are a freak."

Tie Xinyuan nodded. "My mother says the same. She says I was restless even when I was in her womb, kicking dozens of times a day. For a time, she was even worried I would kick through her belly and crawl out myself."

A long, gasping breath, like that of a drowning person surfacing, echoed nearby. The woman, previously so ferocious, finally snapped out of the nightmare of losing the magistrate's son. She looked at her blood-covered hands and began to wail.

Tie Xinyuan pulled Xiao Qiao away, pointing at the woman. "She’ll live. She personally captured the man who stole the magistrate's son. Not only is she free of blame, but she’s also earned merit. These maids and servants who work for wealthy households are the most observant; they naturally know what to say to best serve their own interests."

Xiao Qiao pointed at Butcher Cui, who was twitching in a pool of blood. "That guy doesn't look like he's going to make it."

"Of course he isn't. A thick awl poked a hundred holes in his lower body; the blood is gushing like a spring. It would be a miracle if he lived. Remember this: never let the large blood vessels on the inner thigh be injured. Once pierced, you’ll bleed dry in the time it takes for half a stick of incense to burn."

Xiao Qiao asked helplessly, "Why are you telling me this?"

Tie Xinyuan sneered. "How many thieves have been beaten to death in the capital? I’m telling you this so that if you ever end up in a similar position, you’ll remember to protect your vital points and use your tougher skin to endure the blows of others' fists and clubs!"

"Ah!" Xiao Qiao roared and took off, vanishing in a flash.

Tie Xinyuan, carrying his unique backpack, wandered toward the Poluo Alley.

The first step of the plan was complete. Now, he had to find someone to replace Butcher Cui at Fushou Cave. Such a person was hard to find; those who weren't smart enough would sooner or later end up like the butcher, while those who were too clever were clearly disliked by the Beggar Gang's big boss.

Even though all the people of the capital despised Butcher Cui, there were no shortage of those who, back in the safety of their own beds, envied his lifestyle of fine food and wine.

Humans naturally aspire to climb higher. As long as they can ascend, they rarely care what kind of branch they are standing on. Even if it is covered in thorns that prick their feet with pain, they will do everything in their power to linger at the top for as long as possible.

The imperial path to the top is the finest phoenix tree, and only a golden phoenix is qualified to perch there. As for the rotting, foul-smelling branch that is Fushou Cave, there are still those willing to rest there for a moment.

When a bad person does a good deed, no one believes it; when a good person does a bad deed, most people offer forgiveness. The one thing the common folk of the Song Dynasty never lacked was down-and-out scholars with unyielding spirits.

Such people are often known for their stubbornness. The things they do are rarely rational; they only adhere to the subtle, great meanings of the sages. Everyone knows that these old-fashioned pedants are incapable of handling real-world affairs, yet strangely, whenever a family has a problem, they will bring gifts to seek the old scholar's advice, regardless of whether they intend to listen.

There was such a man at the West Water Gate, a Mr. Shan named Shan Yuanxing. The name sounded grand, yet he had never been far away, nor had he ever traveled for his studies.

At fifty-four, he lived with his seventy-three-year-old mother and sixteen-year-old daughter. His wife had left home one day and never returned. Although many swore to him that she had run off with a young mirror-polisher, he refused to believe it. He would spit in the face of anyone who said so, convinced that his wife had met with foul play at the hands of the Beggar Gang.

It is said that in his youth, he had plans to travel far, but unfortunately, it never came to pass. He believed the proverb that "a son should not travel far while his parents are alive." Since he had not yet repaid his mother's kindness in raising him, seeking personal advancement was putting the cart before the horse and not the proper path.

His latest "old plan" was to wait until his mother passed and his daughter was married, then take a knife and storm the Fushou Cave to perish alongside those beggars.

This plan had been set ten years ago. The reason he hadn't stormed the cave back then was that he felt his responsibilities were incomplete: his mother was not yet buried, and his daughter not yet grown. To die then would have been an act of great unfilial and uncaring sin.

Now, he could finally act. His mother had passed away before the New Year, and his daughter had married an old friend's son on the first day of the Lunar New Year. Since then, his days had been spent drinking and sharpening his blade.

When Tie Xinyuan found Shan Yuanxing, the old scholar was still sharpening his knife. It was unclear how he was doing it, as the massive whetstone had been worn into a crescent shape, yet the knife remained unsharpened. Judging by the wear on the stone, even a large meat cleaver should have been ground down into a dagger by now.

"This is the third knife I’ve sharpened!"

Seeing Tie Xinyuan enter the courtyard, Shan Yuanxing immediately offered an explanation. It seemed he had explained it so many times to others that he did so reflexively even to this child.

"You are not sharpening the knife; you are sharpening your heart," Tie Xinyuan said, placing a bottle of Pear Blossom White wine before the old scholar.

Shan Yuanxing glanced at the wine and smiled. "Don't steal your mother's fine wine. This is worth a lot; your mother might not earn enough selling soup noodles for half a month to afford this bottle."

Tie Xinyuan smiled and squatted before the old scholar. "A friend gave it to me. I’m too young, and my mother doesn't drink, so I brought it to you."

Shan Yuanxing set down the misshapen single-edged blade. "You are worthy of being the child prodigy praised by the Emperor himself. Tell me then, what kind of heart am I sharpening?"