Madam, don't do this!

Chapter 191 Becoming a Marquis is Not My Intention; I Only Hope the Seas Are Calm (Seeking Monthly Tickets)
The rain was still drizzling.

Although the rain was light, it lasted for a long time, turning low-lying areas of the streets into puddles.

Wu Mansion.

The screams gradually subsided.

Because the gate was closed and the sound of rain was also present, no one heard it.

After an unknown amount of time, a woman faintly screamed, and then there was no more sound.

A while later, the gate of the Wu residence was pushed open, and Fang Hai, dressed neatly, walked out of the house. His face was as indifferent as ever, as if nothing had happened. The guards followed behind him, but Fang Lingyue never appeared again.

The rumors about Wu Ming and Ling Yue should disappear by this afternoon.

After some time, Fang Lingyue will likely suffer a sudden and serious illness, and then die.

Fang Hai didn't think there was anything wrong with this. In a powerful family like the Fang family, such things were common and they were used to it.

Aristocratic families value their reputation most.

No matter how filthy it may be behind the scenes.

Many daughters of powerful families indulge in extravagant pursuits, but those that are widely known are absolutely not to be tolerated.

He wouldn't hate Song Yan because there was no reason to hate him. From beginning to end, Song Yan hadn't done anything wrong; in some ways, he was even the victim.

After all, if Fang Lingyue were truly married to Song Yan, Song Yan would have to raise someone else's child. If he were to learn the truth one day, it would be the moment Song Yan severed ties with the Fang family. Just thinking about the heavily armored soldiers covered in blood made Fang Hai shudder; he believed it would be a nightmare. He even had to thank Luo Yuheng; if it weren't for what Luo Yuheng had discovered, he would probably have been courting death.

But... what about the marriage alliance with Song Yan?
The strategy of clinging to Song Yan's coattails must not be changed.

Speaking of which, besides Fang Lingyue, he had two other daughters, one sixteen and the other only twelve. Their looks were no less than Fang Lingyue's. Logically speaking, the sixteen-year-old second daughter should be the most suitable for Song Yan, but Song Yan preferred older women.

Fang Hai was somewhat troubled.

What kind of hobby is this?

That's a bit perverted. Don't men usually prefer younger women?

He thought about the women of the Fang family very seriously, and finally the face of his daughter-in-law, Princess Gaoyang, appeared in his mind.

Then Fang Hai gave a self-deprecating laugh. No matter what, he would never marry his daughter-in-law to Song Yan. Although Princess Gaoyang seemed to be the most suitable in terms of both age and talent, the Fang family had to save face.

……

There is a cargo yard in Songzhou Prefecture.

It used to be a distribution center for goods in Songzhou, and it was a bustling place for merchants to come and go.

But this distribution center was ultimately too small. As new distribution centers were established, this place gradually fell into disrepair. Now, the warehouse is dirty, messy, and a mixed bag of people, which is probably the dark side of a city.

Theft, robbery, murder, brawls—cases happen every day.

Gradually, this place evolved into a black market, where shady items, such as theft or even tomb raiding, were sold. Even items explicitly prohibited by the imperial court could be found here, like crossbows displayed on a stall.

At the same time, this place also houses the largest and most notorious gambling den in Songzhou Prefecture.

The falling raindrops did not drown out the hustle and bustle of the black market.

In some places, lanterns were lit, providing ample light.

Two figures stood under umbrellas, their faces obscured by strange masks that appeared to be sculpted from metal. However, their magnificent brocade robes suggested they were of high status, their distinguished bearing incongruous with the black market atmosphere.

These people are often easy targets, and some black market merchants will bring out their hidden treasures, hoping to win the favor of the two noble young men.

Unfortunately, the two seemed to already have a target in mind and had no interest in the so-called treasures.

The soles of their shoes waded through the puddles.

Walking deeper into the black market, and turning a corner, an old house came into view.

The door was pushed open.

Directly ahead was a large hall, filled with dozens of figures. These people had an exceptionally sinister aura, and many of them had hideous scars on their bodies. Some were standing, some were sitting on the ground, and some were even holding a woman in their arms, groping her. Others were gathered together, loudly boasting.

The only thing they had in common was that everyone carried a weapon or had one beside them, and they could enter combat mode in the blink of an eye.

As soon as the door was pushed open, everyone stopped moving instantly, and the old house fell into an indescribable silence. All eyes were fixed on the two young men at the door.

The black market is not only home to merchants, gambling dens, robbers, and thieves, but also to a group of the most lawless... assassins.

They are professionals and don't ask what grudges or grievances exist between the employer and the target.

He takes money, kills people, that's all.

The two young men were clearly experienced in big events. Dozens of eyes were focused on them, but their pace was not affected in the slightest. They remained unhurried and unhurried.

The eyes beneath the mask swept around, finally settling on a burly man.

The man was tall and imposing, dressed not in the short, martial attire of a warrior, but more like that of a general, with armor draped over his upper body. He stood seven feet tall, his body well-proportioned and muscular, his face full of fierce features, yet his gaze was calm and collected. His skin was dark, and his exposed body, whether face, arms, hands, or calves, was covered in scars, radiating a menacing aura that kept strangers at bay.

They're clearly not to be trifled with.

"Murder," the young man said slowly.

"Kill whom?" The burly man raised his eyelids.

"Song Yan".

The once quiet hall was stirred up by this name.

"No."

The burly man lowered his eyelids, coldly refusing. He was an assassin; his job was to kill, not to send people to their deaths.

Putting aside Song Yan's own strength for the moment, those heavily armored soldiers covered in blood alone were beyond their ability to handle. They didn't need many; just a dozen or twenty of them, once they formed a battle formation, would ensure that none of their thirty or forty men would survive.

"Ten thousand."

“No!”

"fifty thousand!"

The burly man's eyelids twitched slightly: "I won't take it."

"One hundred thousand."

The young man then took out five silver notes from his pocket and placed them on the table: "The imperial edict of reward will be issued the day after tomorrow. The day after that, Song Yan will leave Ningping, pass through Songzhou, and then head to Liaodong."

“He will be escorted by people, but not too many, maybe a hundred, maybe two hundred.”

After all, Song Yan was just a county magistrate and did not have the authority to recruit soldiers.

The burly man shook his head: "I can't kill him."

Twenty heavily armored soldiers would be enough to push them over, let alone two hundred.

They like money, but they also need to be alive.

“We have already bribed the bandits in the vicinity. They will attack Song Yan’s convoy and formation. You are an extra layer of insurance. If the bandits are not enough to kill Song Yan, you can take his head.”

"Here are 50,000 silver notes. After it's done, we'll exchange Song Yan's head for another 50,000." The burly man slapped his thigh and said, "Damn it, let's do it."

There is no way, he gave too much.

……

The time for issuing the imperial edict is drawing ever closer.

Luo Yuheng had started preparing various things early on, including clothes and bedding, which filled several carriages. Although Song Yan repeatedly said that they didn't need so many, Luo Yuheng stubbornly believed that Liaodong was too cold and it was better to prepare more.

During the remaining time, Song Yan did not wander around, but instead spent time with his little sister-in-law and his little sister-in-law.

The two girls were heartbroken after learning that Song Yan was going to leave. After all, once their brother-in-law was gone, there would be no one to tell them such wonderful stories anymore.

And no one would occasionally make them some really delicious snacks.

In fact, no one was even helping with the lessons left by the Master.

These past few days, the two little girls have been clinging to Song Yan almost constantly, just like the legendary koalas.

Song Yan was always exceptionally patient with these two clever little girls. Even though they kept pestering him, he never found it annoying. Song Yan patiently finished telling the story of Sun Wukong and the Seven Fairies, which greatly disappointed the two precocious little girls.

On the third day, the imperial edict arrived.

The one delivering the imperial edict was the same old eunuch from last time. What was his name again? Wei Zhong? Wei Xian? Wei Xiao? Or Wei Liang?

The names are so similar, and they look so alike, that I can't quite remember them.

The old eunuch must have gone to the Fang residence first, and then, led by Fang Hai, he arrived at the Luo family's residence. Also present were a large number of officials from Songzhou Prefecture, including Sima, Tongpan, and Biejia.

The Japanese pirates along the coast of Ningguo have been completely wiped out, ensuring the country will be free from their attacks for the next five years. This is a great achievement, especially considering that Fang Hai's report also mentions the beheading of 50,000 people and the rescue of over 10,000 abducted civilians. Such merit naturally warrants an extremely generous reward.

Fang Hai was directly promoted from Earl of Songyang to Marquis of Songyang. Fang Hai felt a pang of regret. If he could have followed Song Yan to Liaodong, he could not only have avoided the chaos in the Central Plains, but he could also have continued to cling to Song Yan's coattails. The title of Marquis might have even become that of Duke.

At that time, what an honor it would be to have two dukes in one family.

As for the other officials, both high and low, they all looked at Song Yan with great enthusiasm.

They also received rewards, though not as extravagant as Fang Hai's. But every promotion in officialdom is extremely difficult, especially for those of them without any powerful connections. They knew very well where this promotion came from.

Therefore, even before the imperial edict was read, a crowd gathered around Song Yan, bowing and offering congratulations. What Song Yan found even stranger was that many officials had brought their families with them, and these families were mostly women, almost all of them young ladies.

Seeing this scene, Fang Hai felt an even greater sense of crisis. Looking at the girl's obedient and docile appearance, and then thinking about Fang Lingyue's stupidity, he couldn't help but sigh.

The content of the imperial edict was similar to the previous ones, mostly praising loyalty, bravery, filial piety, and then bestowing rewards.

Song Yan's title was changed from Baron to Viscount... and that damned ten thousand gold coins.

A banquet was naturally to be held, and even the eunuchs who delivered the imperial decree stayed behind. In the middle of the banquet, Luo Yuheng and the old eunuch left for a period of time.

When they reappeared, the old eunuch had vanished. As for Luo Yuheng, although he seemed perfectly normal, smiling as before, his smile appeared somewhat forced in Song Yan's eyes.

Song Yan saw it all, but said nothing.

The entire banquet seemed to have turned into a wedding banquet. Song Yan was no longer the groom, but he still couldn't escape being toasted in turn. Especially the young ladies, who were all shy and timid, but they were not careless at all when toasting.

After round after round, even Song Yan was starting to feel the strain, her face flushed.

"Nowadays, the Ningguo court is full of pedantic scholars, each one of them bookish to the point of idiocy. They write a few pretentious poems and lyrics and then claim to be concerned about the country and its people, but they are all just empty talkers. Can writing poetry drive away the Japanese pirates? Can writing lyrics defend against the Jurchens? Even if one has a masterful hand at writing, can one suppress the Xiongnu?"

Perhaps they were all a little drunk.

Some people become quite unrestrained in their speech.

These local officials were ultimately quite different from the officials in the capital.

They may be greedy or corrupt, but when they heard that 20,000 Japanese pirates were attacking Ningping, they were still willing to bring their servants to the battlefield. Even if their purpose was to gain merit, it at least proved that they were not completely rotten.

After all, those who are truly rotten to the core would likely choose to abandon their cities and flee upon hearing the names of the Xiongnu, Jurchen, or Japanese pirates.

When I got drunk, I thought of myself when I was young.

In the beginning, they were all ambitious and wanted to be good officials who were incorruptible and who would serve the people. But as they served as officials, they changed.

The less you do, the fewer mistakes you make; if you do nothing, you make no mistakes.

They became single-mindedly focused on climbing the social ladder.

They became cunning and indifferent.

Passive or active.

Only when they are drunk and their consciousness is blurred can they perhaps find their former youthful selves amidst layers of rotting flesh.

The speaker was Lu Zhao, the Prefect of Songzhou.

He was actually a scholar, yet he could still wield a three-foot sword. During a time of peace, he once killed two Japanese pirates, his face splattered with blood, turning it completely red.

"After Liaodong was captured, the Jurchens plundered and enslaved tens of thousands of people."

"The rebels in Liutang rose up and captured several county towns."

"Floods in the south have displaced many people."

"What have those scholars and officials in Dongling done besides embracing women in brothels and uttering a few words of lament?"

"Damn it, didn't they just push it all onto the Princess and Brother Yan?"

“Brother Lu, you’re drunk.” The other man, Wu Xiao, the magistrate of Songzhou, took a sip of yellow wine and patted Lu Zhao on the shoulder: “You’ve insulted all the scholars in the world with your words. Don’t forget, Brother Yan is also a scholar, and he’s the number one talent in Songzhou.”

Younger brother Yan.

It's unclear when exactly, but this title began to circulate among the officials of Songzhou.

Although Song Yan referred to himself as a junior, it didn't change anything.

"By the way, Brother Yan is very talented. Why don't you take advantage of our good mood today and recite a poem so that we can witness your talent?" Prefect Ji Cheng said with a smile.

A commotion erupted from all around.

Luo Tianyang, that troublemaker of his brother-in-law, excitedly went to fetch the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, seemingly unable to resist watching his brother-in-law display his divine prowess.

Knowing that it was too late to stop it, Yang Siyao began grinding the powder.

Song Yan stood swaying in front of the table, seemingly permeated by drunkenness. After a brief hesitation, he picked up a brush, dipped it in ink, and began to write with flowing strokes.

The brushstrokes were like a living serpent, winding and twisting, dancing freely. Sometimes the brushstrokes went straight down, round and full, like the trunk of an ancient pine; sometimes the brushstrokes swept horizontally with sharp edges, like a sword being drawn from its sheath, or like a gust of wind sweeping by, bringing out a sense of elegance...

"The Depths of Strategic Thinking"

I can rest easy in my humble abode for now, but I still have an old pact to help me through these troubled times.

He called for wine to greet the guests, and then sat down to discuss military strategy while waving a whisk.

Clouds protect the toothpicks, stars hold the sword horizontally.

I do not desire titles and honors; I only wish for calm seas.

(End of this chapter)