CDJMM – Volume 1 – Chapter 17 Writing in the Republic Era (16)

That night Le Jing was awakened by the sharp barking of dogs. He sat up on the bed in alarm, and soon after, the sounds of a man’s loud cursing and struggling came from the courtyard. Le Jing sat quietly for a while. Only when he heard Zhou Da shouting outside did he get off the bed, put on his clothes, and open the door.

By then, the courtyard was already in chaos.

Under the bright moonlight, Le Jing could clearly see two long, lean black dogs ferociously pouncing on a stranger, biting at him savagely. The man was clutching his face, rolling about on the ground, screaming miserably. Le Jing raised his brows slightly at the sight of blood splattered across the ground. Zhou Da had wanted to pull the dogs away, but when his eyes accidentally met the indifferent, icy gaze of the young master calmly watching nearby, he was so startled that he lowered his head at once, his breath turning shallow, as if wishing he could disappear entirely.

“Brother, what happened?!”

“Don’t come over.” Le Jing stopped Li Shuran, who was running toward them. He cast a glance at the two black dogs savagely mauling the man and clicked his tongue softly before finally speaking in a cool tone: “Da Mo, Xiao Mo, come back.”

At once, the dogs’ violent tearing stopped. They released the man and, tongues lolling, ran up to Le Jing to claim credit. Le Jing stroked their heads approvingly, then said to Li Shuran, who was peeking nervously from the corridor: “Go to the kitchen and fetch some pork for me. Da Mo and Xiao Mo did a great job this time, they deserve a good reward.”

At the mention of meat, the two dogs wagged their tails even more vigorously.

These two dogs were highly intelligent — both were Shandong slender hounds, a superb native Chinese breed with more than two thousand years of history, renowned as hunting and guard dogs, and even considered the prototype of the mythical Howling Celestial Dog. Le Jing had spent a hefty sum at a dog-fighting arena to buy them. They were ferocious and bloodthirsty, yet utterly loyal to their master. For dealing with a couple of petty burglars, they were more than enough.

Ever since realizing that villains like Nantang had set their sights on him and his sister, Le Jing had brought the two dogs home to guard the courtyard — and tonight, they had indeed come in handy.

After sending Li Shuran away, Le Jing squatted down before the man lying on the ground, groaning in pain, and asked softly, “Who sent you?”

The man’s groans faltered. After a few seconds, he lowered his bloodied hands, tears and snot streaming down his face, and crawled forward to prostrate himself. “Sir, I have elderly and children at home. Please, spare my life…” He cast a fearful glance at the two lean hounds glaring at him like tigers eyeing prey, his whole body shuddering. “I—I dare not anymore. I swear I won’t dare again…”

Le Jing chuckled lightly, his tone unchanged. “Who sent you?”

The man’s eyes darted, and he stammered, “N-no one sent me. I… I was tempted by greed, I—I lost my head for a moment…”

Le Jing didn’t even look at him. He gently smoothed Da Mo’s fur, speaking in a light, airy tone: “I advise you to think carefully about your answer. A watchdog biting a thief to death isn’t a big deal — I don’t even need to pay compensation.” He patted the dog’s head affectionately, then asked with a tender smile, “Da Mo, you haven’t tasted human flesh yet, have you? Looks like you might get a treat tonight.”

Perhaps triggered by the word “meat,” the two black dogs bared their gleaming teeth, bloody drool dripping from their mouths. The man trembled like a leaf in the wind, his face pale as though he might faint any second.

“I just wonder,” Le Jing said, eyes glinting with a smile colder than the night itself, “if the one who sent you gave you enough money to buy your life.”

That final sentence crushed the last of the man’s resolve. He completely broke down, scrambling to spill everything he knew in exchange for mercy.

Just as Le Jing had suspected, it was indeed Nantang — Tang Nan — who had sent him to “teach him a lesson.”

Tang Nan, while appearing to be a flamboyant young master, was in truth secretly well-connected with several gang members. His generosity had won him quite a few loyal followers. So when disaster struck him, he naturally had underlings willing to take risks for him in exchange for money. The man before Le Jing tonight had merely come to scout the place — but as luck would have it, he had been caught by the two hounds lying in wait.

Le Jing snapped out of his thoughts and saw that the man’s face was covered in snot and tears, staring at him pitifully. Le Jing nodded slightly, smiled, and said,

“Since this is your first offense, I’ll let you off this time.”

The man’s smile had just started to bloom when the youth suddenly took a deep breath and added,

“Wait here. I have something for you.”

The man stood trembling in place. Zhou Da watched him, and it seemed the man was imagining all sorts of things—his face turned pale and flushed by turns, blood dripping steadily onto the ground, yet he didn’t seem to feel the pain at all.

Not long after, Le Jing returned, holding a money pouch. In the man’s incredulous gaze, he counted out five silver dollars and handed them over.

“Take this to treat your wounds. The rest, consider it as nutrition money.”

The silver light dazzled Zhou Da’s eyes, and inwardly he clicked his tongue at his master’s generosity. He’d seen the injury himself—it was nothing more than a flesh wound. At most, two silver dollars would cover the doctor’s fee. Who would’ve thought the young master would hand over five!

Sure enough, the man froze in place, clearly never expecting Le Jing to give him money. For a moment he was at a complete loss, not daring to reach out.

“Take it.” Le Jing said calmly. “I’m giving you this money only for the sake of the one who owns that longevity locket.”

His gaze swept toward the ground where, during the scuffle, a small locket had fallen out. It was engraved with auspicious patterns, clearly something belonging to a little girl.

“This should be something you bought for your daughter, right?”

He pushed the money forward again, impatience creeping into his voice.

“Take it. Go home, get treated, don’t scare your girl.”

The man stood dazed for a long while before finally taking the money with trembling hands. Without another word, he dropped to his knees and knocked his head against the ground a few times.

“Enough of that.” Le Jing said sharply. “You should understand very well why this whole mess started. It’s nothing more than Tang Nan’s personal servant, Zhang Defu, that toad wanting to eat swan meat, pestering my sister. When his advances failed, he wanted to ruin her. And Tang Nan helped fan the flames, targeting us siblings at every turn.”

The youth’s cold, cutting voice echoed above him.

“You’re a father too. Tell me, if one day someone wanted to defile your daughter, what would you do?”

The man pressed his forehead to the ground, silent for a long time. Finally, choking with tears, he replied while kowtowing,

“This time…it’s my fault, sir. I was blinded by greed…”

“Enough, I don’t need your apologies. Leave.” The youth waved him off impatiently. “Next time you come again, I won’t be so merciful. That coward Tang Nan hides behind others, pays you to risk your life for him—what a fine plan. Tell him this: if he wants me to send him to the police station and make him a laughingstock, he can keep sending men my way.”

The man silently kowtowed once more, tucked the locket and silver dollars into his chest, then suddenly said,

“My name’s Liao Fang. If you ever need anything, sir, just come find me at the docks.”

With that, he gave Le Jing a deep look, then turned and left without looking back.

Zhou Da finally let out a long breath and began praising Le Jing endlessly for being so kind and merciful.

Kind and merciful?

If Le Jing ever truly became that kind of person, then it would mean his soul had been switched with someone else’s.

The reason he spared Liao Fang—and even gave him money for his wounds—was not for the sake of some girl he’d never met. It was because of the gang that Liao Fang belonged to—the Green Gang.

Those two words carried enormous weight in the Republic of China. His real enemy was only Tang Nan. Liao Fang was just a lowly errand boy. Although the Green Gang’s headquarters was in Shanghai, they also had branches in Beiping. It wasn’t worth provoking them over something so small.

That so-called longevity locket was just an excuse. Even without it, Le Jing could have spun some story about his mother waiting at home for him, and it would’ve worked just as well.

…

The next day, when Yang Jinglun came to Le Jing’s house to collect the manuscript, he discovered that the always-reliable “Model Worker” Mr. Le not only bluntly admitted he hadn’t written a single word, but also announced that his series “Looking Down on Humans Through a Rat’s Eyes” might be put on hold.

Yang Jinglun: ???

Just as he was reflecting on whether he had offended Mr. Le somehow, he learned from him something that made his blood boil.

“Sir, this Tang Nan is outrageous! Don’t worry, I know people at the police station—”

“Go to the police?” Le Jing raised a brow, smiling faintly, his smile dripping with contempt. “If they were capable of arresting Tang Nan, then China would already be a land of peace and prosperity.”

Sure enough, what kind of master has what kind of servant. With a master like Tang Nan, it was no wonder Zhang Defu behaved so arrogantly.

Yang Jinglun was choked into silence, forcing an awkward smile. Of course he understood the reality.

In the Republic, policemen only believed in one truth—whoever pays is family. Competing in connections, the rootless Le Jing could never compare to someone like Tang Nan, who came from a wealthy landlord family in old Beijing.

But that didn’t mean Le Jing had no way to deal with Tang Nan.

Strike a snake at its seven inches. To deal with people like him, you had to attack what they cared about most.

And what did Tang Nan care about most?

Naturally—his reputation.

Destroying his reputation would hurt him more than killing him.

Le Jing had only given him a small taste, and already Tang Nan was panicked enough to send hired thugs to teach him a lesson—delivering the perfect handle straight into Le Jing’s hands.

So, how should Le Jing deal with Tang Nan?

The modern entertainment industry had already provided him with textbook-level classic tutorials.

Le Jing: Time to introduce him to brainwashing packages.

As for Zhang Defu? Hah. Without Tang Nan’s backing, he was nothing.