Then they both sighed. They shared the same thought: being gatekeepers was getting nowhere.
Ever since many had become regular visitors to the Prince Mansion, newcomers no longer paid them anything—it wasn’t necessary.
And truly new visitors were practically nonexistent; strangers had long become acquaintances.
Now, their only income was that small monthly allowance.
Fang Pi said, “Why don’t we join the Guard? Every month there’s a stipend, and during battles, there are loot and bonuses. That’s way better than this. I’ve decided—I’ll go find Captain Ma later.”
Cui Gengren said, “Just talking to Captain Ma won’t help. You still need Lord Shen’s approval. Too troublesome. You’d better stay here. Besides, your skills aren’t good; if there’s a battle and you have to scale a city wall—too high—you wouldn’t make it.”
Fang Pi frowned. “True, it’s more comfortable here. No rain, no sun. How nice!”
“Exactly,” Cui Gengren laughed, “from now on, guarding the gate is your big responsibility. I won’t accompany you anymore.”
Fang Pi frowned. “Wait, what do you mean? Where are you going?”
Cui Gengren laughed, “I already applied with Captain Ma and Lord Shen to join the Guard. Only then did I realize how much trouble it is—forms, exams. You just stay here. When I make my fortune, I won’t forget you.”
“Hey, that’s how you handle things?”
Fang Pi jumped up, upset. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Cui Gengren said, “I am telling you now. I just reached eighth rank, so I’ll actually be useful on the battlefield. Lord Shen trusts me enough to make me his personal bodyguard!”
“Hmph!”
Fang Pi spun around angrily, ignoring Cui Gengren. He felt deceived and deeply hurt.
It wasn’t just them who lacked money—far away in Yuezhou’s Tancheng, Bao Kui was also short on funds.
“Since arriving in Tancheng, I got a rise of one or two taels,”
Bao Kui sat in the Yuezhou Administrative Office, counting on his fingers and speaking to Liang Yuanzhi beside him. “Now I have three taels total, to support two elders and four kids. It’s barely enough—life is extremely hard. Sometimes I feel so guilty toward your sister-in-law; since she came to our household, she hasn’t enjoyed a moment of comfort. Tell me honestly—can I even take a concubine now?”
Liang Yuanzhi, newly promoted to Yuezhou’s Superintendent of Education, was first moved by Bao Kui’s earlier words, then utterly stunned by the last part.
After a moment, he chuckled awkwardly. “General Bao, you’re truly a man of principle, with lofty ambitions.”
They were this poor, and he still thought of taking a concubine? Who gave him that courage?
Yet, one couldn’t help admiring Bao Kui.
He oversaw Yuezhou’s military affairs. If he truly wanted money, donors would have flocked to him. Instead, he didn’t take a penny—his frugality maintained integrity.
Bao Kui sighed. “Without my wife and children nearby, the long nights are so lonely. It would be nice to have someone by my side. Otherwise, my mood suffers. When I’m in a bad mood, I can’t do my duties properly. If I disappoint the prince, I couldn’t bear the consequences.”
“General Bao,” Cao Xiaohuan, who had been silent, suddenly smiled. “Why be so gloomy? Tong Jin Hua has opened a new brothel in Tancheng—why not go support it?”
“I can’t afford it—just a few taels would be gone,”
Bao Kui picked up his flask and sipped. “A poor man like me must remain chaste. Luckily, Shen Chu married a concubine—a beauty. But friends’ wives are off-limits.”
Cao Xiaohuan laughed. “I heard the prince say friends’ wives are fair game.”
“Nonsense!” Bao Kui glared, then reluctantly set down his flask and sighed. “I can’t drink more; it would waste time. Night patrol starts now.”
He grabbed the sword on the desk and strode out of the office.
Cao Xiaohuan followed closely.
Most of the administrative office constables were newly recruited and inexperienced. Tancheng, a thousand-year-old city, was far larger than Baiyun City, so Bao Kui’s men had to assist in the patrol.
At the office gate, a squad waited, mounted with torches, led by the night watchman.
Bao Kui and Cao Xiaohuan mounted horses. Bao Kui shouted, “Move out!”
The watchman beat drums, and the patrol began along Tancheng’s streets and alleys.
During curfew, shops and homes were already closed, and darkness blanketed the city. The sound of hooves echoed sharply along the quiet streets.
Bao Kui glanced at a rice shop with a damaged Sanhe banner—its corner missing, the mouse eyes gone—and snorted. “Tomorrow, I’ll have a word with this shopkeeper. According to Sanhe law, intentionally damaging or improperly hanging the banner is fined.”
“Leave small matters like this to me,” Cao Xiaohuan, noticing Bao Kui yawning, said, “General Bao, why don’t you lend me 300 men? Then you won’t have to patrol yourself.”
“I thought the same,” Bao Kui pointed to his soldiers. “But ask them if they agree. They’re not fools—five hundred copper coins matter. Plus, soldiers gain loot. Constables? Only a pittance—barely enough for their wine.”
Cao Xiaohuan smiled. “Aren’t they your men? Their pay won’t decrease. I just need them temporarily. When the constables are sufficient, they’ll return.”
According to Sanhe rules, new constables require three months of training before duty. Tancheng’s constables were neither disciplined nor skilled.
Bao Kui shook his head. “Remember the pirate the other night? Seventh rank, still out robbing! Unheard of! Unbelievable! Nowadays, anything strange can happen; you must stay alert. I’ll follow behind—you can count on me.”
Cao Xiaohuan laughed. “Then why not lend me two seventh-rank men?”
Bao Kui scowled. “Sister, think! My few top soldiers? If something happens, I can’t call you back?”
He feared sending valuable men on a one-way mission.
Cao Xiaohuan, though a discarded wife, was naturally beautiful, drawing constables and soldiers like little dogs. His top men were all single men; if Cao Xiaohuan used her charm, losing them was plausible.
Thus, he wouldn’t make such a foolish decision.
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