The next morning, Li Chi rose early and practiced in the courtyard of the government inn. The courtyard was sparsely appointed—nothing like the amenities of his lodgings back in Jizhou.
So he ran through a set of boxing forms, and spotting a stone padlock nearby, went over to work through some strength training.
It was then that Ding Shengji arrived—a sign, if nothing else, that Li Chi had truly made an impression on him.
This early in the morning, he had come to take Li Chi outside for breakfast.
Li Chi thought to himself: the government inn’s breakfast would certainly be generous enough—what could possibly be on offer out there?
But Ding Shengji said that nothing in Shengfang County was more renowned than its brined tofu, paired with salt-fragrant, crisp-baked clay oven flatbreads—a genuine delight in every way.
Li Chi stifled a private smile. As far as flatbreads went, the truly excellent ones could probably be counted on one hand.
First, Jizhou’s clay oven flatbreads and donkey meat fire-baked rolls. Second, the northwest’s white-flour baked buns and tong flatbreads.
They were almost at the Nanping River by now—local clay oven flatbreads had no business competing with Jizhou’s.
So Li Chi knew perfectly well that Ding Shengji hadn’t come just to take him out for breakfast.
But Li Chi agreed immediately anyway, changed his clothes, and went out with Ding Shengji.
Neither of them brought attendants. They walked along Shengfang County’s main street at a leisurely pace.
Observing a place like Shengfang County showed just how potent the deterrent effect of a powerful army could be.
It was less than two hundred li from Anyang City—and yet the place had never been touched by rebel forces.
The streets were already alive with people getting breakfast this early. The north-south blending of the area meant a reasonably wide variety of morning offerings.
The two of them ambled along, exchanging casual conversation, until they arrived at a shop perhaps a li and a half from the government inn.
Ding Shengji said he’d eaten here before and knew exactly how good it was—which was why he’d brought Li Chi along.
“Last time you fed me buns,” Ding Shengji grinned. “This time I’m buying you flatbreads.”
“Then I won’t bother thanking you,” Li Chi replied.
The two walked into the flatbread shop. It was small but clean and tidy—the proprietor and his wife were clearly hardworking people.
At this early hour, there weren’t many customers. To the left sat a table of six or seven, with accents that sounded like they might not be from Jizhou.
Nearer the back sat two people—one elderly, one young. The older man looked to be in his sixties; the younger one around twenty.
Li Chi and Ding Shengji took an empty table and called the proprietress over.
She came with a welcoming smile. “Honored guests, what can I get you?”
Ding Shengji glanced at Li Chi; Li Chi gestured for him to order as he saw fit.
So Ding Shengji said: “Forty of your clay oven flatbreads, four bowls of brined tofu, and bring out some pickled and small side dishes.”
The proprietress involuntarily sized up the two of them. They looked to be hearty men, but forty flatbreads did seem excessive.
“Most fellows would do fine with three or four flatbreads,” she ventured. “Two guests like yourselves might want to reconsider—”
Ding Shengji waved her off. “Just bring them.”
At that moment, the elderly and young man near the back had finished their meal and rose to settle up.
As they moved to leave, the old man dropped his voice: “All the way to Anyang City, you have to keep close watch over our medicines. Everything we have is riding on this—we’re counting on this trip to make some money.”
The young man nodded. “Grandfather, don’t worry about it.”
The six or seven others at the nearby table looked up sharply at those words, exchanging glances that carried something strange.
The two walked past—and one of the seated customers suddenly shot out a foot.
The old man was caught off guard and stumbled forward.
Li Chi’s reflexes were fast. He reached out and caught the man before he fell.
The six or seven men were all on their feet now, encircling the grandfather and grandson.
One of them demanded: “You two—are you from Jizhou?”
The young man went to support his grandfather, glaring at the one who’d tripped him. “What’s wrong with you?”
The man who’d tripped him smirked. “I asked—are you from Jizhou? Did you buy up medicines to sell in Anyang City?”
The young man said: “This is still Jizhou territory, and we’re Jizhou people. What of it?”
“Nothing much,” the man said. “Just want to make you suffer a little.”
Another one spoke up: “Your Jizhou merchants think they’re so impressive. We came from Yuzhou to buy medicines in your territory and got pushed around by your people. Now you want to turn around and make money selling in our city?”
The grandfather and grandson had gone visibly pale.
“That has nothing to do with us,” the young man said. “How can you bully people like this?!”
The man laughed. “Listen to that—you Jizhou people can bully others, but we can’t bully you back?”
He raised his hand and dealt the young man a hard slap across the face—heavy enough to make him stagger.
The young man’s anger flared. He raised a hand to wipe the corner of his mouth, saw blood, and his eyes went wide.
He lunged forward to retaliate. His grandfather, afraid of escalating things, grabbed him—which only meant the grandson took several more punches.
One of the Yuzhou medicine merchants snorted coldly: “We’re people of Xingsheng Trading. Out here, you think you can tangle with us?”
The young man had just been ready to fight to the last—but at those three words “Xingsheng Trading,” his expression faltered, and the hot blood drained away.
He stepped back to shield his grandfather. “You’ve hit us, and now we’re done with this. Just let us leave. We won’t go to Anyang City.”
“You want to go or not based on what you feel like?”
One of the men spread his legs in a wide stance, leveled a finger at the young man, and said: “Crawl through my legs, and I’ll let you walk.”
Crack!
A bowl of steaming brined tofu was pressed straight down onto the man’s skull. The bowl shattered.
Li Chi’s hand had been on it. The man’s body swung sideways and crumpled to the floor.
Ding Shengji grabbed Li Chi’s arm. “Why get involved?”
Li Chi shook his head at him—don’t interfere.
He looked at the medicine merchants and said: “You were pushed around by someone in Jizhou while buying medicines. The one who pushed you around was me. Debts have debtors and grievances have sources. I’m with Jizhou’s Shen Medical Hall—come at me.”
The group was clearly stunned. They looked at each other, and not one of them dared to make the first move.
Li Chi turned to the grandfather and grandson. “You two—go. Have your medicines brought to the government inn. I’ll buy them from you at Anyang’s going rate. When you get there, tell them Li Duidui sent you—no one will give you trouble. Take the silver and go home.”
The young man said: “But you—”
“Just go.”
“But there are so many of them and only one of you—let me stay and help.”
Li Chi said: “Remember this when you’re out in the world and things get rough: either back down, or go all in. Hovering in between—you’ll get bullied regardless, and you’ll be looked down on too.”
“I… I’ll stay,” the young man said.
Li Chi waved him off. “Get out of here. Nothing to do with you anymore.”
Ding Shengji leaned close and said under his breath: “If these men really are from Xingsheng Trading, haven’t you just picked another fight with the Cao family?”
Li Chi said: “I was the one who started this in the first place. What has it got to do with anyone else?”
He looked at the Yuzhou medicine merchants. “If you want to settle this, stop wasting time—come at me directly.”
The group, faced with Li Chi’s composure and bearing, hesitated again.
One of them raised a pointing finger at Li Chi. “You dare stay here? You wait—I’m going to get people and come back for you.”
“Bold talk,” Li Chi said.
The man spun around and bolted out of the shop without a backward glance.
The remaining ones didn’t dare to make a move, but they didn’t leave either—blocking the doorway as if to pen Li Chi in.
Li Chi called to the proprietor: “Flatbreads—speed it up.”
The proprietress brought the flatbreads over with trembling hands. Li Chi sat down and ate.
The flatbreads had just come off the fire—fragrant and crispy through and through. No condiments needed; the flatbreads alone were delicious enough.
Ding Shengji tried again: “Why do this?”
“In Jizhou I went after Xingsheng Trading’s people because they were bullying my Jizhou merchants,” Li Chi said. “Here I’m going after them again because they’re bullying my Jizhou people.”
“Yesterday you said if things got bad, you’d send all the medicines off as a gift,” Ding Shengji said. “You’d go to Anyang and make apologies. What happened to that?”
“Apologizing and kowtowing is something I do for my own sake,” Li Chi said. “I can do that, I don’t mind bowing low—but Jizhou people getting bullied in front of me? That I won’t allow.”
He talked and ate at the same time, putting away twenty flatbreads and two bowls of brined tofu without pausing.
Then he wiped his mouth. “Seven tenths full—just right for a fight.”
He glanced back outside. A crowd had come rushing up the main street—a great wave of people, easily a hundred and more. Some were even carrying blades, weighing them in hand.
Spotting the blades, Ding Shengji’s expression hardened. He looked over and fixed the armed men with a withering glare—and one of them startled, quickly retreating into the crowd and dropping the weapon.
Li Chi stepped down from the shop and took up a position at the door.
Before him spread a dense mass of people.
The man who had fled came back out to point at Li Chi. “That’s him—the Shen Medical Hall man from Jizhou! He’s the one who pushed our people around back there!”
Someone shouted: “Get on your knees!”
Li Chi looked at whoever had shouted and said, in an even tone: “Say that to my face.”
“Still putting on a show at a time like this?” the man shouted back. “Everyone—get him!”
He grabbed his club and charged forward. The crowd surged behind him.
A black shape flew—smashed through a window across the street.
Another black shape went flying—ended up dangling from a tree branch.
Someone howled as they hit the ground, a leg bone shattered by a single kick, writhing back and forth in pain.
Li Chi alone. Walking straight into them.
Inside the flatbread shop’s counter, in fact, Young Lord Cao Lie had been sitting the whole time—there was a rocking chair back there, and he’d been gently swaying in it, a smile at the corners of his mouth.
The counter was high enough that no one could see him behind it.
When the fight broke out, he stood and walked to the shop door, both hands clasped behind his back, watching.
The more he watched, the more his expression brightened. Light filled his eyes.
He watched Li Chi—alone, working from one end of the street to the other, not a single person able to withstand one punch.
Cao Lie laughed, speaking more to himself than anyone: “Interesting, truly interesting.”
Ding Shengji smiled. “I told the Young Lord—this one is different.”
Roughly a quarter of an hour later, Li Chi stopped. He was breathing just slightly harder than usual.
The street around him—bodies scattered, horizontal and diagonal, every single one of them moaning and groaning.
Facing more than a hundred men, Li Chi had traded blows straight through the length of the street with nothing but his fists.
He turned and looked back at the flatbread shop. Ding Shengji was no longer there—nor was the young man he’d glimpsed standing beside Ding Shengji.
Li Chi walked back into the flatbread shop, sat down, and called out to the proprietor and his wife, who had both gone white as sheets.
“Five more flatbreads. One more bowl of tofu.”
Seven tenths full before a fight—something to top up with after.
Then he seemed to remember something and asked the proprietor: “The man who left—did he pay?”
The proprietor shook his head: “He… he didn’t.”
Li Chi muttered something colorful under his breath.
He got up, went back outside, and frisked the people lying on the ground—searched several of them and turned up maybe twenty or so taels of silver.
Back in the shop, he dropped the silver on the counter. “Settle up. Pack the rest of your flatbreads—I’ll take them with me in a moment.”
At that very moment, Cao Lie and Ding Shengji had already reached the teahouse across the street. They had just settled into window seats on the second floor when they saw Li Chi doing this—and Cao Lie burst out laughing.
“Entertaining—damn, that’s genuinely entertaining. Absolutely, insanely entertaining!”
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