Chapter Nineteen: A Shout Against Injustice (1)

Seeing his earlier remarks so perfectly aligned with his own thoughts, Zhang Changlin could not help but feel a touch of appreciation.

He spoke with intent to recruit, “Young man, I see you possess some talent and insight. Are you interested in working at my Manufacturing Bureau?”

Shi Yi’s lips twitched; he immediately shook his head, “Sir, you’d better seek someone else. I have no wish to enter the factory.”

Zhang Changlin’s expression showed a trace of disappointment. He waved his hand, “Very well, then hurry and leave this place!”

Shi Yi smiled, saluted respectfully, “In a few days, I’ll pay you a personal visit, bringing along the improved firearm schematic.”

With these words, he turned and alighted from the carriage.

Zhang Changlin was momentarily stunned, then shook his head with a wry smile.

...

Shi Yi boarded his own carriage and instructed the coachman and attendant to drive straight to the Rongguo Mansion.

The carriage rolled through the West Street district, and Shi Yi lifted the curtain to gaze outside.

The streets were bustling with people; taverns and shops lined both sides in neat rows, banners fluttering in the wind. Vendors hawked their wares, actors performed, creating a constant, lively din.

Shi Yi pondered for a moment, then called for the carriage to halt, deciding to walk the rest of the way—it wasn’t far from the Rongguo Mansion.

He thought to seize the opportunity to pick out a couple of small trinkets to bring back for Daiyu.

Shi Yi approached a nearby stall, scanning for something suitable, and finally selected a small velvet doll.

“How much for this, boss?”

The stall was crowded; soon, people pressed in on all sides. The proprietor, busy calling out to customers, was sweating profusely. The noisy street and overlapping shouts muddled everything, so even after Shi Yi asked twice, he received no reply.

He simply reached into his purse, took out some silver coins, and tossed them before the stall owner.

Shi Yi continued to stroll through the lively street, noting the abundance of foreigners—men and women alike.

The foreign women wore velvet leather tunics, paired up arm in arm, accompanied by several attendants who loudly drove away anyone blocking their path, flaunting their loyalty.

Shi Yi’s curiosity grew—what era was this dynasty actually set in?

He had hoped to learn more, but had been confined at home for a month; all he’d heard from his servants was that it was the so-and-so year of Qiande.

But wasn’t that nonsense? The Dashun dynasty, since the founding emperor, had existed for barely over a hundred years.

Shi Yi had consulted historical records, which showed no Ming or Qing dynasties; the Mongol Yuan had inexplicably ruled for centuries, and earlier history was equally confused and scattered. Many famed ministers and generals he knew appeared in the wrong eras.

In truth, it seemed more like a world and history stitched together from many parts.

He continued along the bustling street, picking out a few more items without finding anything that truly satisfied him.

He didn’t linger, but turned from the middle of West Street into Ningrong Street.

At the corner of the street, a group had gathered, occasionally erupting into cheers.

Shi Yi, intrigued, pushed his way through with a couple of forceful shoves, squeezing himself into the crowd.

Several nearby frowned in displeasure, about to rebuke him, but when they looked up and saw who it was, they swallowed their curses in terror—how had they run into this troublemaker?

Some timid ones quietly slipped away.

Shi Yi was left with a small space to himself; within a few steps, no one dared approach.

He remained oblivious to these reactions, his gaze fixed on the delicate young woman performing with a flower spear in the center.

She moved with graceful ease, every motion fluid, dazzling to watch.

A particularly beautiful backflip drew a round of applause and cheers.

Shi Yi watched with growing interest, wanting to linger a little longer.

Yet, the young woman seemed to finish only half her routine before stopping, sweat glistening at her temples. She casually wiped her brow with her sleeve, dampening it.

She clasped her hands and addressed the crowd in a melodious voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am new to the capital. If you’ve enjoyed the show, those with money, please support me; those without, your presence is welcome. I thank you all.”

Her words stirred a commotion; some were used to free entertainment and pursed their lips, unwilling to pay.

“Tch, she’s barely performed, and now she’s asking for money.”

Others, at the mention of payment, became sullen and departed, grumbling all the way.

Some tossed a few copper coins, treating it as buying a ticket.

Shi Yi watched the scene with particular interest.

In no time, most of the crowd dispersed, leaving only a dozen or so, some who paid, some who shamelessly stayed for a free show.

Shi Yi considered for a moment, then took a few taels of silver from his purse and tossed them accurately into the young woman’s bamboo basket.

She picked up the silver, her worried face brightening with joy—this was enough to cover a month’s street performances.

Shi Yi smiled gently, “Miss, may I ask your name? Would you perform a special act just for me?”

The young woman heard his request and saw a tall, handsome, and courteous gentleman before her.

She hid her flower spear behind her and approached with a smile, “My surname is Zhao. Thank you for your generosity, sir. Which act would you like to see?”

“Are there different acts?” Shi Yi asked, puzzled. He truly didn’t understand, having just developed an interest and wishing to watch a while longer.

The young woman seemed to notice his uncertainty and volunteered, “Why don’t I perform a set of spear spinning for you?”

“Spear spinning?” Shi Yi echoed, momentarily bewildered, but then watched as she spun the flower spear with fluid grace. His face flushed, nearly letting his thoughts stray.

The young woman, slender and graceful, wore only light summer and autumn garments despite the winter season, giving her all in her performance.

With someone paying for a private act, passersby quickly gathered again.

Joy shared is joy multiplied—Shi Yi found himself thoroughly entertained.

“Make way! Make way! Official business!”

Suddenly, seven or eight constables arrived, shouting as they forced the crowd to disperse, surrounding the young woman.

Shi Yi frowned and stepped aside.

The young woman planted her left hand on her hip, right hand gripping her spear, and shouted, “What do you want?”

The lead constable hadn’t yet spoken when two men in fine brocade emerged from the crowd.

One, seemingly drunk, belched and barked at the young woman, “Zhao Qingpan, where’s your thief of a brother? Come clean, and when I take your virginity tonight, perhaps I’ll go easy on you.”

He burst into crude, wild laughter.

Such humiliation was unbearable for an innocent maiden.

Zhao Qingpan’s anger flared; she shouted, “You scoundrel… shameless! I don’t know you, nor do I have a brother. Watch me stab your filthy mouth!”

Ignoring the constables, she raised her flower spear to strike.

“Head Constable Fang, quick—stop her!” The man instantly sobered, hiding behind the constables.

“Bold girl!” Head Constable Fang drew his saber and moved to confront her.

Zhao Qingpan had no real skill, only a few flashy moves learned for performance.

Facing deadly strikes from an experienced constable, she had no power to resist.

Within moments, she was overwhelmed; the other constables joined in, drawing their blades and subduing her.

Zhao Qingpan was forced to kneel, struggling to lift her head, and cried, “You officials, colluding with scoundrels under the emperor’s nose, corruption everywhere. I am innocent—on what grounds do you arrest me?”

Seeing her subdued, the brocade-clad man regained his courage.

He rolled up his sleeves and strode over, hands on his hips, looking down with a smug grin, “Because you have a thief for a brother. You’re linked, and under Dashun law, that makes you guilty of harboring a criminal.”