By dusk, they arrived.
A village nestled between small hills, vast wheat fields stretching ahead, a Wei River tributary winding through—a prime feng shui spot.
Under the setting sun, golden wheat waves rolled, a pastoral dream.
"This is Ancient Water Village," Sha Lifei said, leading his horse, explaining. "Named for an old spring in the hills. Biggest landlord's Squire Lu.
"This Lu's a big deal—used to be a top merchant in the capital, came home rich, bought land. See these fields? All his.
"Key thing? He's generous. Everyone's eyeing this gig. Without my connections, you'd be fighting Longyou reapers for scraps…"
Reaping was big in Guanzhong, but Longyou folks dominated. Hard workers, no complaints, they were the kings of the trade.
"Hero Sha's the real deal!"
"Follow Sha, no losses!"
The reapers' praise puffed Sha up.
…
Squire Lu's estate was at the village's east end.
As Sha said, a true big shot.
The mansion, shaped like a hollow square, was brick and wood, four courtyards, three gates deep, walled high with ornate brick carvings on the base.
Gate towers, plaques, hitching posts—everything.
Bathed in sunset, it oozed grand, ancient charm.
Li Huairen's two-courtyard home in Li Family Village was nothing compared. The reapers, awestruck, gaped.
"Damn, how rich is this guy?"
"Talk about an eye-opener…"
They weren't the only crew working for Lu.
Outside the gate, a flat expanse—bigger than a threshing ground, watered and rolled smooth—hosted several groups, bedding slung, sickles tucked, squatting, chatting, or puffing pipes.
Sha told his crew to stay put, then approached the gate.
A lean old man stood there, neatly dressed, small cap, white-haired, black-framed glasses perched on his nose, flanked by burly assistants.
Sha knew him, bowing low, all smiles. "Steward Lu, these are my men."
"Day late, huh?"
"Bit of trouble on the road."
"Fine, wait for the master's speech, then we'll sort you…"
As they talked, Li Yan scanned the scene.
His sharp eyes and jianghu know-how picked up details.
The group to the right was from Longyou—distinct accent. Their leader, an older Longyou knifeman, wore a sheepskin jacket despite the heat.
White-haired, but his arms bulged with muscle.
His hands hinted at eagle claw training.
The steward's assistants looked sloppy but were built like oxen, eyes sharp—house guards, no doubt.
In jianghu slang, "hangers" from the "hanging" trade.
Whether bodyguards or escorts, they needed real skill and jianghu savvy. No pushovers.
These weren't temps—lifelong retainers.
This Lu family was way richer than your average squire…
"Master Lu arrives!"
A servant's call rang out as a group emerged from the mansion.
Leading was Squire Lu.
Tall, plump, pale, with a kindly face and a black beard to his chest, his silk robes screamed wealth.
Behind him, guards and two women.
One in white, elegant and refined; the other in red, sultry, pale-skinned, with a beauty mark on her chin.
Different vibes, both young—next to Lu, they could pass for daughters.
But everyone knew—concubines.
The reapers, mostly dirt farmers, and even the brothel-frequenting knifemen, hadn't seen women this stunning. Eyes popped.
Sha swallowed hard, hissing, "Behave! Don't stare, don't dream. Anyone makes a fool of us and loses the job, I'll end 'em!"
The reapers dropped their gazes.
Sha had some sense. Another crew nearby wasn't so lucky—their knifeman leader drooled openly, ignoring his men.
Li Yan found it odd.
Big households usually kept concubines hidden to avoid gossip, not paraded before strangers.
But Lu seemed unbothered, even proud.
Facing the crowd, he stroked his beard, smiling. "Folks, I, Lu, returned to my roots. Got some land, but I ain't no heartless rich man.
"Harvest's a race. Work hard, and the Lu family won't short you. White flour buns, mutton offal soup—eat your fill!
"Pay's two sheng of wheat per mu.
"Work more, earn more!"
The reapers' eyes bulged.
Normally, a mu paid one sheng—two-plus jin.
Often, they'd get shorted.
Lu offered *two* sheng, plus unlimited buns and offal soup.
Offal or not, it was meat!
"Squire Lu's a saint!"
The reapers bowed in thanks.
"Haha, my pleasure." Lu cupped his hands, then led his group back inside.
Steward Lu stepped up, face stern. "The master's kind, but rules are rules.
"Buns are free, but no taking.
"No sneaking into the inner mansion. Got business? Send word. Cross that gate uninvited, don't blame me for getting rough…
"Slackers or thieves go straight to the law…
"Work starts at yin hour. Threshed wheat gets stored before rest."
The steward was sharp, laying it out clear.
The reapers nodded.
Strict, but the pay was sweet.
Never this lucky before…
After, they were led to the village edge.
Temporary shelters awaited.
For the next stretch, they'd live here, working dawn to dusk, no breaks except to eat and sleep.
Grueling, but harvest was like that. No pain, no coin.
Next to the shelters, a dozen big pots simmered.
White sheep bone broth bubbled, offal chunks bobbing.
Tall wooden steamers wafted wheat fragrance.
Reapers, road-weary, had lived on cold water and grain cakes. The smell hit hard—drool flowed.
They lined up, clutching bowls, squatting to scarf it down.
A Lu assistant laughed, "Eat up, but don't ruin your stomachs for tomorrow's work."
An old reaper grinned. "Don't worry, lad. We farmers know one full meal from a feast."
"Hahaha!"
Laughter erupted.
They were thrilled—couldn't ask for a better boss.
Even Li Yan was impressed.
He'd been to Bluefield's temple fairs, where offal soup was for the poor, greasy, flecked with wool and flies. He couldn't stomach it.
Lu's cooks kept it clean, spiking the soup with chili oil, scallions, and coriander.
With white buns? Pure bliss!
Young and training hard, Li Yan wolfed down five buns and four bowls of soup, then wiped his mouth, heading for Sha.
The road's chaos had kept them quiet; now settled, he wanted the plan.
Sha was bragging with other knifemen.
Seeing Li Yan, he guessed the question but sidestepped, grinning. "Fellows, meet Li Yan. His dad's a legend—you know, Guanzhong's Sick Tiger!"
Li Yan's mood soured.
He wasn't here to make a jianghu name.
If he wanted fame, he wouldn't ride his dad's coattails, let alone need Sha's big mouth.
Too late now. He forced a smile, cupping his fists. "Greetings, seniors."
The Longyou knifeman in the sheepskin jacket, smoking, nodded. "Heard of Tiger Li. Righteous man, shame… sigh."
Others chimed in. "Young man looks sharp. Bound to be a Guanzhong star."
Jianghu talk—flattery was free.
But a young guy squatting nearby sneered. "Tch, Li Hu's son, out in the jianghu so soon? Still wet behind the ears?
"Jianghu's rough—don't break your back…"
*(End of Chapter)*