Chapter Twelve: Fighting Evil with Evil

Little Wu was just enjoying himself when he suddenly heard several calls, “Yang Cheng, Yang Cheng, come out quickly.”

He turned to see a man and a woman already stepping through the doorway. The man was thin, his narrow, shrewd eyes glinting with cunning. The woman was so fat she looked like a pile of flesh, her chest and waist indistinguishable from one another.

Judging by their attire, Little Wu could tell they were from a well-to-do family; they must be relatives or friends of the young master. He had recently picked up some etiquette in receiving guests, so he hurried forward with a smile, greeting them warmly, “Sir, Madam, are you here to see the young master?”

The newcomers were none other than Yang Cheng’s uncle and aunt. They had visited a few times before and never bothered with formalities, striding straight in. Each time, the Yang household was desolate and quiet, with only the old man and the young master remaining. Even the fallen leaves in the courtyard went unswept, the whole place reeking of decline. No wonder these two had the idea of seizing the estate—if it fell into their hands, they could turn a profit.

But today, as they entered the courtyard, they found things quite different. The bleakness was gone, replaced by lively bustle—at least a dozen people were busying themselves within. As the pair intruded, everyone turned to look, making them feel slightly out of place. Fortunately, a young man approached to inquire about their business, and the rest went back to their work.

Yang Yi and his wife, Madam Hu, exchanged uncertain glances. When the young man asked their purpose, they replied, “We’re Yang Cheng’s uncle and aunt. We’ve come to see him. What’s going on here?”

Little Wu replied with a smile, “The young master was up late last night and is catching up on sleep this morning. We are all his servants.”

Yang Yi was taken aback. He glanced around the bustling courtyard—how long had it been since he last visited, and already there were so many new servants? With Yang Cheng’s impoverished state, even keeping a little money for daily life would have been a feat—where had he found the means to hire so many hands, and acquire so many goods for the house? Could it be that he had pawned or sold household belongings at a loss? Though the estate still belonged to Yang Cheng, the thought that its contents might soon be his own made him anxious—if Yang Cheng squandered everything, what would be left?

His anger rising at the thought, he was about to lash out. Madam Hu, sensing the same, also grew furious. Seeing that the young man was but a servant, she strode forward and, without warning, slapped Little Wu hard across the face.

Little Wu had been greeting them politely, never expecting to be struck without a word. The fat hand landed with a resounding smack, sending the thin Little Wu reeling to the ground, stars spinning before his eyes.

The others in the courtyard, hearing the commotion, looked over in shock as Little Wu was knocked down. The men of the household were all out—Maozi and Big Ox had long since left with Old Master Yang—leaving only a group of women and the weak, with no one to take charge. Besides, it was not uncommon for nobles to strike servants, though in the Yang house, the masters were always kind and never abusive. Today’s incident truly startled them, and they could not guess what would come next.

Aunt Wang, seeing her nephew struck, dared not make a scene but was deeply distressed. She hurried to help Little Wu up. Not wanting to create trouble—after all, these were the master’s relatives—Little Wu signaled with a shake of his head to let it go.

The fat woman planted a hand on her hip and swept her short, thick fingers in a circle, cursing loudly, “You wretches, how dare you ruin the Yang family’s property!” Her tirade was unending, spewing forth every insult imaginable.

The servants could only mutter meekly, not daring to speak.

Suddenly, someone interrupted. “This is still the Yang estate, not yours. How is anyone ruining your property?” It was Yang Cheng himself. He had heard the commotion outside and, knowing exactly who had come, hurried out of his room.

Ordinarily, though he did not fear this shrew, he had little means at his disposal. Whether the IOUs in Yang Yi’s hands were genuine or not, if they brought the matter before the authorities, Yang Cheng would have no money to smooth things over and would have to concede. Thus, he had always chosen to endure, hoping to buy time until he could earn enough. But now, with some wealth to his name, his demeanor had grown more confident—no longer did he need to be polite to the pair.

Yang Yi sensed a subtle change in Yang Cheng today but could not pinpoint what it was. He tugged at Madam Hu’s sleeve, signaling her to stop. Realizing she might have said too much, Madam Hu hastily tried to justify herself, “Your servant was being insolent, so I taught him a lesson.”

Yang Cheng saw the red mark on Little Wu’s face, blood still at the corner of his mouth, and understood at once what had happened. His anger simmered within him. He stepped forward and said, “Uncle, Aunt, my servants are not yours to discipline.”

Seeing herself in the wrong, Madam Hu decided to press the issue instead. She shouted, “Yang Cheng, have you grown bold? Fine, I won’t indulge you any longer. You’ll pay what your father owed us today. If you can’t, you’re out—the estate comes to us.” She swept her gaze around, adding venomously, “As for you lot, you’ll belong to my household from now on. See if I don't put you in your place!”

Everyone was stunned. Falling into these hands would be a disaster—it was clear these two were not ones to be reasoned with.

At this, Yang Cheng’s anger vanished, replaced by a cool smile. “Very well. I’d like nothing more than to settle this today.” He called Little Wu, Aunt Wang, and Xiao Lan to bring out the bags from the table in the main house.

Soon, the three returned with six bulging sacks, setting them before Yang Cheng and the couple. Yang Cheng instructed Little Wu to open the bags. Yang Yi and Madam Hu gasped at the sight—six sacks filled with spirit coins, easily totaling ten to twenty thousand by the look of them. Madam Hu was overjoyed at the windfall.

Yang Cheng said, “Little Wu, count out one hundred spirit coins from the bags. I wish to give them to my dear aunt.”

Everyone was speechless. To produce such a fortune only to hand over a mere hundred coins was clearly a deliberate mockery.

Yang Yi and Madam Hu’s faces flushed, then paled. Who could have guessed that in such a short time, Yang Cheng’s wealth now surpassed their own?

Once Little Wu had counted out the coins, Yang Cheng signaled him to present them. Yang Yi accepted the hundred coins, realizing his plan had failed. But then a thought struck him—how had Yang Cheng suddenly come into so much money? And he had accepted the payment without even taking back the IOU; perhaps there was still a way to twist things in his favor later.

But Yang Cheng spoke first, “Uncle, that IOU is in my late father’s handwriting, isn’t it?”

Now that the money was in hand, Madam Hu feared further complications and replied quickly, “Of course it is.”

Yang Cheng slapped his forehead. “How coincidental! I remember my father left me a chest full of IOUs, all in the same handwriting. Some are for thousands, some for tens of thousands of spirit coins.”

Yang Yi was startled by Yang Cheng’s sudden exclamation and retorted impatiently, “And what of it?”

Yang Cheng replied, “I’d better check carefully—who knows, perhaps your name is among the debtors?” He chuckled darkly. “If so, Uncle, you wouldn’t refuse to pay, would you? If you do, I’ll just have to send a gift to the authorities and have them come collect on my behalf.”