"Master, I've already asked around. No outsiders have appeared in the village recently."
Li Nanqiao didn't return until nightfall. She first wandered through the village streets as if she had nothing to do, chatting with the elderly men and women resting under the large tree at the village entrance.
Then, in the evening, she carried a basin of dirty clothes to the river. Now that it was summer, villagers preferred to do their washing after sunset, when the air was cooler.
She casually mentioned that she thought she had seen a few unfamiliar faces on the road and asked whether anyone had come to the village recently to visit relatives.
The women washing clothes immediately began chattering about recent happenings in the village. After getting the information she wanted and seeing that it was growing dark, Li Nanqiao hurried back to report to Qin Ke.
"However, Song Yaozu returned two days ago. Aunt Li said she's seen him wandering around the village these past few days. She was even wondering why, under such scorching sun, he wasn't staying home to study and instead kept going out to the fields."
So he really was haunting them.
"Did anyone see him today?" Lu Youqing asked, wanting to confirm.
"No. After hearing that, I specifically asked the neighbors next door to his house. He didn't step out of his room all day today." Though Li Nanqiao was straightforward by nature, she was also surprisingly meticulous.
"Then the person Lei Zhong struck in the leg must have been him," Qin Ke said.
At that very moment, Song Yaozu lay in bed with a dark, twisted expression, unaware that Qin Ke and the others had already figured it out. His injured leg throbbed with burning pain, deepening the gloom on his face.
"Yaozu, how about we stop provoking Qin Ke for now?" Song Yaozu's mother sat beside his bed, patiently persuading him. "I've heard he's even hired servants now. Why not focus on preparing for the imperial exams? Once you pass and become a xiucai, we can deal with him then." (Xiucai: refers to scholars who passed the lowest-level, prefectural imperial examinations in ancient China, granting them special status, freeing them from some labor/taxes, and allowing them to take higher exams)
She didn't understand why, ever since Song Yaozu saw Qin Ke selling watermelons at the market, he had become obsessed and determined to clash with him at every turn.
Though the Song family and Qin Ke had never been on good terms, in her mind, the imperial examinations were far more important. They had pinched pennies to support his studies in town precisely so he could rise above others.
"Qin Ke! I will never coexist with him!" Unfortunately, Song Yaozu had already dug himself into a dead end and refused to listen to any advice.
Song Yaozu's mother was helpless, yet she dared not mention this to her father-in-law, fearing that his rage might cost Yaozu his chance to continue studying.
Though narrow-minded, Song Yaozu hadn't originally planned to retaliate so soon. Qin Ke had beaten him publicly, ruining his reputation in the village, and he bore a grudge—but he believed in biding his time.
A gentleman takes revenge even after ten years. Once he passed the exams and gained standing in the village, he would have his say and finally reclaim his dignity.
However, the day he accompanied his academy classmates to stroll through the West Market, he unexpectedly saw Qin Ke.
One classmate laughed after seeing the watermelons and said, "I heard this is a new kind of fruit. My mother bought two yesterday. After chilling them, they were incredibly refreshing."
"What kind of fruit sells for five hundred wen each? Brother Tingzhi, is it really that good?"
"Of course," Tingzhi replied lightly, flicking open his folding fan. "Five hundred coins is nothing to my family. My mother even said she'd send someone to buy more today."
To him, five hundred coins sounded as trivial as five coins to an ordinary household—barely worth mentioning.
The surrounding classmates chuckled and said they'd also have their families buy a few to try.
Only Song Yaozu stood silently at the back of the group.
When he first entered the academy, he had studied diligently, burning the midnight oil. But over time, watching his classmates eat, drink, and enjoy themselves—dressed in fine clothes—while he alone stood apart, resentment took root.
Why was it that he had to carefully calculate every coin, scrimp and save, wear patched clothing, and still feel unable to hold his head high before them?
So he began flattering the wealthy students. As long as he pleased them, he could tag along to places he'd never dared enter before—and even tasted the pleasures of courtesans.
"Brother Song, won't you try a piece?"
Someone finally directed the conversation toward him, their tone thick with teasing and mockery.
All eyes turned to him. From their gazes, Song Yaozu saw disdain and ridicule. His pride surged, and lifting his chin, he snapped open his fan and declared, "I don't need to buy it. The person selling watermelons is from my village. I just need to say the word, and he'll come rushing to deliver them."
"Oh? Brother Song, I didn't expect that. Why don't you show us?"
The group jeered, urging him to confront Qin Ke on the spot. Having already boasted, backing down would only humiliate him further, so he steeled himself and walked toward Qin Ke's stall.
Just as he reached the center of the street, he saw that the donkey cart was already empty and that they were packing up to leave. He let out a breath of relief and turned to the others.
"Unfortunate timing. He's already sold out. You'll have to wait until next time."
"Don't be like that, Brother Song," someone pressed. "Since he's from your village, why not bring some back for us? Let us bask in your favor too."
Unable to refuse, Song Yaozu reluctantly agreed.
That very day, he rushed home and spread word among the villagers that Qin Ke had made a fortune selling watermelons, hoping to incite them to collectively pressure Qin Ke into giving villagers a break out of shame.
But when his mother returned home, he learned that Qin Ke still charged villagers one hundred coins per watermelon. With the Song family's finances drained by his education, they couldn't afford such a thing and had returned empty-handed.
When that plan failed, Song Yaozu turned to underhanded methods. If Qin Ke loved money so much, then he shouldn't blame others for abandoning morality.
Having been sent to study from a young age, Song Yaozu had rarely done farm work and barely knew even his own family's fields. He wandered the village for two days before finally identifying the location of Qin Ke's watermelon fields.
He also sought out a group of beggars who lived off alms at the City God Temple—though "beggars" was a polite term. They were more like thugs, all of whom were under his control, forced to hand over whatever they collected.
Song Yaozu paid one tael of silver to hire them. Who would have thought that even a simple watermelon field would be guarded at night?
They had barely crept close when dogs began barking. Not only did they fail to steal a single watermelon, but his leg was also struck by a thrown stick, swelling red and painful.
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Currently at chapter 166 for advance chapters
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