Whoever had been relentlessly pursuing this child likely had informants in Qian Jin County as well. If they were too conspicuous, it would only invite disaster.

Though Qian Jin County could not compare to the city, it was quite prosperous — the streets were lined with shops on both sides, lively and bustling.

Shi Ting and Yan Qing entered the county and went straight to the most bustling stretch of road. Busy, crowded places were always convenient for gathering information.

“Shi Ting, look — over there is a restaurant called Yuan’s Restaurant. The owner might be surnamed Yuan.” Not far away, the gilded characters of Yuan’s Restaurant were especially eye-catching.

“Let’s go take a look.”

The two entered the restaurant. A waiter immediately came forward to greet them: “Gentlemen, please come in.”

The waiter spoke, then glanced at the child Yan Qing was holding, puzzling inwardly: why would two men be carrying a baby? Wasn’t that supposed to be a woman’s affair?

But he had seen all manner of strange people and strange things, so the thought swirled in his head for only a moment before dispersing.

After the waiter led them to a seat by the window, he asked cheerfully: “What would you two like to order?”

“What are your specialties here?”

“Our specialties are three-seasoned roast chicken, smoked meat flatbread, lamb broth rice, and spicy iron-plate squid.” The waiter reeled off the names of the dishes with great fluency.

Shi Ting ordered two of the items and asked for a pot of hot tea.

As the waiter brought the tea, Shi Ting asked casually: “Your restaurant is called Yuan’s Restaurant — is the owner surnamed Yuan?”

“This gentleman, one look and I can tell you’re from out of town.” The waiter smiled. “Yuan’s Restaurant is a major establishment here. The owner is surnamed Yuan. The Yuan family used to run a small roast chicken workshop, but the roast chicken business grew and grew until they opened a small eatery, and the eatery grew into a restaurant. They now have four or five branches in Qian Jin County.”

“Oh — I had heard the owner goes by Yuan Da Lang?”

The waiter let out a small laugh. “Our owner is called Yuan Wenshan, not Yuan Da Lang.”

“Then is Yuan Da Lang his younger brother?”

The waiter showed not the slightest sign of impatience, pouring tea as he spoke: “Our owner’s younger brother isn’t called Yuan Da Lang. The owner has only one elder brother — Yuan Wenkui. Their parents passed away early, and it was the elder brother who raised the owner. The roast chicken craft was also taught to him by his elder brother. Later, when the owner’s business grew, he didn’t want his brother toiling away, so he bought him a large mansion and sent him some beautiful companions to keep him in comfort.”

Yuan Wenkui!

The two exchanged an inconspicuous glance, a barely concealed delight rising in both their hearts. Truly: one may search a thousand miles without finding it, only to have it fall into one’s lap.

“I must have had it wrong,” Shi Ting said, setting down his teacup.

“With the Yuan family name not being common in Qian Jin County, it’s no surprise you thought of our owner when you heard Yuan Da Lang.” The restaurant was not very busy at the moment, and the waiter was at ease, talking freely — he loved nothing more than telling visitors about Qian Jin County.

“Your owner’s elder brother certainly has a life of ease,” Shi Ting guided the conversation toward Yuan Wenkui.

The waiter said: “Of course he does — beautiful concubines like blossoms, who’ve given him quite a few sons. Though the head of the family has an odd temperament — he only wants daughters. But his wife and concubines have kept on having sons, one after another, eight sons in all. By the time the head of the family had nearly given up hope, his wife finally gave birth to a daughter. From the moment she was born, the head of the family treasured her like a jewel — truly held her in the mouth for fear she’d melt, cupped her in the palm for fear she’d fly away.”

Yan Qing sipped her tea and looked down briefly at the child in her arms — rosy cheeked and still sleeping.

“This Yuan family’s daughter grew to sixteen, then suddenly wanted to get married. The head of the family refused absolutely.”

“He didn’t approve of the future son-in-law?”

The waiter nodded. “The man Yuan’s eldest daughter had her eye on was no ordinary person.”

He lowered his voice: “He was the bandit chief.”

Shi Ting’s eyes lit up, and the hand holding his teacup tightened slightly.

The waiter was about to say more when two more groups of customers came through the door.

“Gentlemen, please take your time — the dishes will be up shortly. I’ll leave you to it.” The waiter excused himself to attend to the new arrivals.

“It seems this child is no ordinary one,” Yan Qing said, her expression brightening.

“Yes. Let’s find Yuan Wenkui first.”

Before the words were out, the child who had been sleeping all along suddenly woke. He opened a pair of large eyes and stared at Yan Qing for a moment, then reached out to grab her collar. His small mouth was scrunched — it looked as though he was about to cry.

“Is he hungry?” Yan Qing asked in a fluster.

“What does a child this age eat?” Shi Ting was also somewhat at a loss.

“Baby formula,” Yan Qing blurted out.

Shi Ting looked at her in surprise: “Baby formula?”

Yan Qing paused — that level of refinement probably didn’t exist in this era yet. “I meant cow’s milk.”

She recalled a colleague once saying that cow’s milk was hard to digest — it probably wasn’t suitable for a six-month-old.

“Rice paste?” Yan Qing thought for a moment.

“That’s more like it.” Shi Ting called the waiter over and asked him to arrange some rice paste.

Before long, the waiter brought it over. Calling it ‘rice paste’ was a stretch — it was more the starchy film that floated to the top of a pot of boiling congee. Nutritious and easy to digest.

Yan Qing fed the small baby a little under half a bowl. He seemed to love it — his little mouth kept opening and waiting to be fed.

Only when Yan Qing decided he’d had enough did she stop feeding him. The little one, having eaten his fill, went back to playing with the fabric of Yan Qing’s collar.

After the two of them hastily ate their meal, they left the restaurant and, asking for directions along the way, headed for the Yuan Mansion.

Luckily, the Yuan Mansion was well known in this area. After asking only two people, the route was made clear.

“This must be it.” After turning a corner, two great vermilion lacquered doors appeared ahead, with two tiger-head copper rings hanging upon them — dignified and imposing.

Before they even drew close, two large characters could be clearly made out on the enormous plaque above the door: Yuan Mansion.

Shi Ting stepped forward and knocked the door ring. Before long, someone opened it from inside — a young man who looked to be a servant.

He took one look at the two people standing outside. Both were dressed in plain cotton, looking quite humble. One of them was even cradling an infant.

Were these beggars? Had beggars come all the way to their doorstep?

Yan Qing: “…”

Clever people judge by bearing; fools judge by clothes.

Shi Ting paid the servant’s assumption no mind. He simply removed the gold lock from around the child’s neck.

“Please take this to your master. When he sees the gold lock, he will know what to do.”

Shi Ting gave the servant a calm glance. The servant involuntarily stepped back a pace — the gaze was understated, yet carried a nameless pressure.

He looked the young man up and down again, and suddenly felt that this person was remarkably striking, with an air of authority about him.

The servant dared not ask more, took the gold lock, and hurried off.

Yan Qing couldn’t help but smile — if there was one skill she had to name as unrivaled, Shi Ting’s ability to apply silent pressure with his gaze was beyond question.

Not long after, a flurry of footsteps came from within, and it sounded like several people.

The great door swung open, and several bejeweled women and maids ushered a man outside. He was in his fifties, well-preserved, though behind the faint glow of health, there was undisguised shock and excitement.

“Xiu’er, my Xiu’er — where is she?” This man in his fifties — the master of Yuan Mansion, Yuan Wenkui — had come to the gate in a grand procession surrounded by his wives and concubines. But he saw no Xiu’er — only two men in coarse cloth, one of whom, looking rather delicate, was holding a tiny baby.

Yuan Wenkui was first taken aback. The first thought that popped into his mind was: had he gone and sired more offspring through some dalliance?

But he only ever chased after women — what did this man have to do with him?

“Master, the gold lock was brought by these two,” the servant said, helpfully reminding his master, who was standing there blankly, seemingly lost in thought.

Yuan Wenkui snapped back to his senses and quickly descended the steps. The women behind him, seeing this, followed in a rush — a sight that made the corners of Yan Qing’s mouth twitch; she was at a loss for what expression to make.

This Yuan Wenkui… had truly exhausted himself enjoying the pleasures of a polygamous life.

“How did you come by this gold lock?” Yuan Wenkui fixed both of them with a sharp stare.

Shi Ting then recounted what had happened on the boat — how they had encountered the woman, and how she had entrusted the child to them.

“This is… is this Xiu’er’s child?” Yuan Wenkui suddenly burst into tears, reaching out to take the baby in his arms. “This is Xiu’er’s child — my poor little one.”

The moment the child was transferred to Yuan Wenkui’s arms, he began wailing at the top of his lungs. The concubines behind Yuan Wenkui surged forward, all seven hands and eight feet taking turns trying to soothe the child.

An older woman among them said: “Master, this really is the eldest daughter’s child — look, the mole at the center of the brow is exactly the same as the eldest daughter’s.”

Yuan Wenkui wept for a while, then turned to look at Shi Ting again and gave a bow: “Two young gentlemen, two benefactors — my deepest gratitude. Yuan is boundlessly thankful.”

He waved a hand behind him: “Come, take both gentlemen inside. See that they’re treated with the finest food and wine.”

Yan Qing glanced at Shi Ting. Shi Ting gave her a nod — this Yuan Mansion might prove to be a breakthrough for this trip. He decided to go inside and see how things developed.

The Yuan Mansion’s steward promptly ushered Shi Ting and Yan Qing through the gates, giving orders for food and drink and rooms to be prepared.

Yan Qing, seeing the child still crying, said: “This child fell ill on the journey and ran a high fever. After taking medicine, the fever came down, but after all the jostling of the road, he may be running a fever again. I had a look at his throat earlier — there’s redness and swelling, suggesting an inflammation. Until that inflammation is treated, the fever will not break. Master Yuan would do best to have a doctor called to the mansion as soon as possible to examine and treat him.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Yuan Wenkui bowed to Yan Qing again. “The benefactor speaks wisely. Quickly, quickly — send for Doctor Ma.”

Then he turned to Shi Ting: “Please, both of you rest a while. Once I’ve seen to the child, I’ll come personally to thank you.”

Everyone exchanged courtesies, and then the steward led Shi Ting and Yan Qing to the guest rooms in the rear courtyard.