Chapter 12: The Prize Catch
Chapter 12: The Prize Catch
Liu San’er returned home striding as if the mud beneath his boots were clouds. The moment he crossed the threshold, he slammed a heavy pouch onto the table. The dull, metallic thud echoed through the small room. He stood with hands on his hips, casting a triumphant glare at his wife.
“Damn it, woman! Didn’t you warn me against helping Chen Chang’an?” he barked, his chest swelling. “Open your eyes and look at this! This is silver personally bestowed upon me by the Prince of Huainan himself!”
His wife’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as they caught the dull shimmer of the metal spilling from the pouch. “Fifty taels... a full fifty taels!”
It was inconceivable. Her husband had been hauled away by the Prince’s soldiers like a common criminal, yet instead of the dungeon, he had returned with a small fortune.
“Husband,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and fear. “Is Chen Chang’an truly the Prince’s son?”
“Could there be any doubt?” Liu San’er scoffed, though his own heart still hammered against his ribs.
“But if it’s true, why would he fall into such a miserable state?”
Liu San’er paused, his bravado momentarily faltering. The internal politics of the nobility were a murky abyss he had no desire to plumb. “How should I know the business of the high-born? Perhaps the Prince is tempering the boy—forging the heir in the fires of hardship. Regardless, if a single syllable of his identity escapes your lips to anyone else, it’ll be our heads! Now, move! Fetch me two jars of the good wine.”
He collapsed into his chair with the air of a grand patriarch. “Today, I shall play the hero over a pot of plum wine!”
His wife rolled her eyes. *A hero? You?* She kept the thought to herself, however, hurrying out to satisfy his request while the silver still felt real.
***
Across the city at the Huainan Manor, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Chen Zhan’s face was a mask of cold fury as he loomed over Chu Yanran. “You claimed the boy had silver on him,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “If he were flush with cash, why would he associate with commoners and risk his life hauling fish from a swollen river during a storm?”
Chu Yanran felt her temper flare, her defensive instincts sharpening into a blade. “My Lord, how can you be so naive? He is doing this on purpose—leaving a trail of misery to craft a false narrative. He wants you to doubt me! He is trying to sow discord within the very heart of this family!”
Chen Zhan hesitated, momentarily blindsided by her conviction.
Seeing the flicker of doubt in his eyes, Chu Yanran pressed her advantage. “Now that we know where the brat is, the game is over. When he crawls back, I will confront him myself. That animal has developed a certain... low cunning, hasn’t he? To think he dares to scheme against his own parents! If we do not break him now, he will become utterly lawless.”
Chen Zhan nodded blankly, the logic feeling hollow yet difficult to refute.
Chen Hongluo, however, was focused on the logistical oddity of the situation. “Father, the boy’s motives are secondary to his actions. He specifically sought a carp weighing exactly six jin and six liang. Such precise demands are only made by the great houses for auspicious banquets. What exactly is he planning?”
Chen Zhan shook his head; the boy’s mind had become a locked room.
“Father, let me go find him,” Chen Hongluo pleaded.
“Find him? Where would you even look?” Chu Yanran sneered. “Just wait for the fool to come begging at the gates.”
Chen Hongluo shook her head, her resolve hardening. “The rain is letting up. I will visit the prominent estates in Jiangdu and inquire about any birthday celebrations. I must bring him back before he humiliates the Huainan Manor any further.”
Chen Zhan gave a curt nod of approval. If word spread that the Ninth Son of the Prince of Huainan was peddling fish like a common street vendor, the manor’s prestige would be shredded beyond repair.
“Go, and be swift,” Chu Yanran added, her eyes narrowing with a cruel light. “And whatever it takes, bring him back. The Chen family’s Discipline Rod has been waiting for his back for far too long.”
Chen Hongluo nodded and hurried toward her carriage. Her logic was sound, but she had overlooked one crucial detail: the celebration wasn't being held by a Jiangdu noble, but by a powerful retired official in Yuyang City.
***
Meanwhile, Chen Chang’an was straining against the harness of his cart, his muscles screaming in protest. The rain had lessened to a steady drizzle, but the wind remained a relentless foe. His hair was plastered to his scalp, and water streamed down his neck, soaking into clothes that felt as heavy as lead.
Sun Jingyi, watching his friend’s staggering gait, shouted over the gale, “Brother, the weather is turning foul again! Let’s take cover for a moment!”
Chen Chang’an shook his head violently, the movement spraying droplets from his chin. The rhythmic, squelching sound of his boots in the mud was the only pulse he cared about.
“We can’t stop!” he yelled back, his voice raw. “If we don’t reach Yuyang by noon, this catch is worthless! Everyone, pull!”
Raised in the Foundling Hall, these young men were forged in the crucible of deprivation. A bit of wind and rain was a trifle compared to the hollow ache of a winter without food. They leaned into the ropes, a small, determined knot of humanity moving through the grey veil of the storm.
By chance, a luxurious carriage splashed past them, its wheels throwing up a fan of muddy water. Inside sat Chen Hongluo and her personal maid.
Xuan’er cracked the window to vent the stifling air of the carriage. She glanced out and saw the group of bedraggled men. Between the grime, the mess of his hair, and the gloom of the storm, she failed to recognize the young man leading the pack.
“Eldest Princess,” Xuan’er said, her lip curling in a sneer. “Look at those dregs. Why are they out in this weather instead of staying in their hovels? How unsightly.”
Chen Hongluo, frustrated after a string of fruitless inquiries at local estates, was in no mood for charity. “What does the life or death of the rabble have to do with us?” she snapped. “If it weren’t for people like them, my brother wouldn’t have been led astray. Commoners... I wish I could wipe them all from the face of the earth!”
Xuan’er quickly pulled the window shut as the carriage galloped away, leaving the “rabble” behind in the mud. Chen Hongluo had no inkling that the very brother she sought was the one she had just showered with contempt.
***
In Yuyang City, the manor of Squire Zhuge was a hive of frantic activity.
The master of the house, Zhuge Sheng, was a man of immense gravity. Having previously served as the Excellency of Works, he had spent a lifetime overseeing the realm’s water conservancy. Though retired, his influence remained vast. Even the relentless Plum Rain Season could not deter his guests; a steady stream of dignitaries had been arriving since dawn, seeking shelter under the massive silk awnings erected in the courtyard.
However, in the bowels of the manor, the kitchen was a theater of chaos.
“Steward Wang, look at these! They’re minnows!” the head chef wailed, gesturing to the vats.
“If we serve fish this small, we’ll be dragging the Squire’s reputation through the gutter!”
“The banquet starts in an hour! Do something!”
Chef Zhao, the culinary master of the estate, stared at the carp—none of which exceeded a single jin—and felt his blood pressure reaching a breaking point.
Steward Wang was equally frantic, his face pale. “What’s the use of shouting at me? The young master only gave me three days' notice for a carp of six jin and six liang! It’s the middle of the rains; the rivers are death traps! Where was I supposed to conjure one from?”
“You’re the best chefs in Yuyang,” the steward added, his voice cracking. “I have faith in your ingenuity!”
*Faith, my foot!* Chef Zhao thought. He wanted to strike the man. A five-jin discrepancy wasn't something you could hide with a bit of garnish.
Chef Zhao turned to march toward the front courtyard. Steward Wang blocked his path instantly. “Where do you think you’re going? Start the fires! The guests are seated!”
“Cook? Cook what? My own damn boots?” Chef Zhao roared. “Even the cleverest housewife cannot cook without rice! I’m going to tell the Squire the truth. I’m not taking the fall for your incompetence!”
Steward Wang’s scalp went numb with terror. The front yard was packed with the region’s elite. If Chef Zhao made a scene now, the steward’s career—and perhaps his life—would be forfeit.
“Get back here! You aren’t allowed to leave this kitchen!”
“I’d be a fool to stay! Move!”
The two men began to shove one another, their desperation boiling over into a brawl.
But then, a loud, rhythmic cry drifted over the manor walls from the street outside.
“Fish for sale! Fresh fish for sale!”
“A massive carp, six jin and six liang! A prize for a grand occasion!”
“Selling fish! Who needs the King of the River Carp of Kings?”