MWC – Chapter 191 Rolling Forward

I AM DROPPING THIS NOVEL. IF ANYONE WANTS TO CONTINUE THEY CAN. IF POSSIBLE PLEASE SHARE THE LINK SO I CAN BINGE READ TOO.

Lu Ming was pondering how to shift the conversation from a marriage alliance to an outright “purchase.” Price wasn’t the issue—land, population, and other resources here were incredibly cheap when valued in Imperial currency. The real problem was that these local chieftains would normally never consider selling.

Moreover, rejecting a marriage proposal only to spend money buying the “dowry”? That would be a serious insult to the Poporo family. After all, they had shown utmost sincerity—even offering up an ancestor for sacrifice—to show their earnestness. Refusing such a proposal would be hard for them to accept, let alone suggesting turning the marriage into a transaction.

How should he phrase it? Maybe it was better to wait a few days before bringing it up.

He was still mulling it over when Hawkeye Luo forced a smile and spoke: “Mayor, though my family doesn’t possess much land, I personally own a lake rich in fish. You must know, come the dry season, water is scarce around the Eight Cities area. There’s only one privately-owned lake in the region, and it’s mine. The public lake to the south is larger, yes, but it’s shared among a dozen city-states.”

“The fish and shrimp there are incredibly precious—you surely understand that.”

“Now, I am willing to offer that lake, along with the forty-seven households of fishermen (over three hundred sixty people) who live by it, as Papaya’s dowry, and present them all to you alongside her!”

Sitting beside him, Papaya—who had been maintaining a reserved and polite smile—gasped in shock. She turned to look at Hawkeye Luo, her face full of disbelief.

Hawkeye Luo avoided her gaze completely, not sparing her even a glance. His mouth twitched slightly, and a flash of pain passed through his eyes.

There was no doubt—he was a ruthless vulture. No matter how much he loved this woman, compared to the future of his family and his own power, she was ultimately insignificant.

Lu Ming was utterly speechless. First someone offered their ancestor, and now someone was offering their wife—what kind of absurd situation was this?

Granted, the western regions lacked a sense of propriety, justice, and modesty compared to the East. Their customs were rough and very different. For example, in local chieftain families, it was common for an heir to inherit not just his father’s estate but also two of his father’s other wives (not his birth mother), without these additional wives even counting toward the limit of three wives one was allowed.

There were many other bizarre customs as well.

Even so, today’s situation was rare to the extreme.

“Mayor, I’ll leave Papaya here for now,” Hawkeye Luo said, standing up. “I’ll go prepare her dowry right away and send it over tonight.”

Across the room, both Poporo and Long Xiang were staring at Hawkeye Luo in disbelief. After all, everyone across a dozen nearby city-states knew how much Hawkeye Luo adored Papaya.

Papaya was renowned as the most beautiful woman among the nearby city-states—her fame had spread far and wide from her teenage years.

At one point, when Hawkeye Luo still had three other wives, he had gone to great lengths to prevent her from marrying someone else, competing fiercely with the son of White Deer City’s most powerful lord, and eventually winning Papaya’s hand.

There were even rumors that Hawkeye Luo, fearing delays might lead her father to marry her off to someone else (as local girls typically married at eleven or twelve), had, by the time she turned sixteen, grown desperate. To ensure no obstacles remained, he allegedly caused the death of one of his childless wives, thereby freeing himself to marry Papaya quickly.

Of course, those were only rumors and couldn’t be taken entirely as truth.

Still, it was widely recognized that Hawkeye Luo cherished this wife above all others—treating her like a precious treasure he feared to even breathe on.

Papaya herself was exceptionally capable, soon taking charge of most of the family’s affairs. Many people found it more efficient to deal with her rather than Hawkeye Luo directly.

And now, he was willing to give her away?

In this culture, wives were considered property, true, but even a wife one had grown weary of would be a source of deep shame if handed over to another man—let alone a wife so deeply loved.

Poporo and Long Xiang, father and son, stared in shock at Hawkeye Luo, who was rushing off to prepare the dowry. After the initial surprise, Poporo’s expression shifted to one of faint admiration—and a touch of wariness—while Long Xiang’s eyes were full of contempt.

“Mr. Hawkeye Luo, wait!” Lu Ming finally snapped out of it and helplessly raised a hand. “Let’s not talk about that for now. Why don’t you all first tell me: regarding the support projects we offer, what expectations do you have? Or, if you’ve prepared any specific proposals, what would you like our support for?”

Poporo gave a small smile and said, “Mayor, I came here only to secure a marriage alliance with you. I have no interest in any official business.”

Lu Ming nodded, glancing at Long Xiang. Previously, he had somewhat looked down on the Poporo family, but now it was clear: it was simply that Long Xiang wasn’t up to par—nothing like his father.

Hawkeye Luo also smiled and said, “What Feibo said expresses my sentiments exactly.” He even moved his seat closer to Poporo and away from Papaya.

Papaya, meanwhile, only stared at him in a daze, her beautiful eyes brimming with tears, as if, in the entire world, she could only see him.

“Very well,” Lu Ming said, “as for the marriage matter, I…”

Lu Ming had just started speaking when he heard a crisp, childish voice:

“I’ll agree to all the marriage stuff on behalf of my brother!”

Nicole suddenly jumped behind Lu Ming and said to Luo Yi, “Why aren’t you translating for them?”

Lu Ming had already noticed Nicole curiously coming downstairs, whispering something to Luo Er—clearly drawn by all the lively noise.

Apparently, she’d been laughing so hard she was doubling over.

Which was, frankly, very frustrating.

But he hadn’t expected her to suddenly jump into the conversation like this.

Startled by her words, Lu Ming frowned and turned, intending to tell Luo Yi not to translate it.

But before he could speak, Nicole was already leaning over his back, one arm around his neck, the other covering his mouth, giggling as she said to Luo Yi, “Go ahead and translate—I’m making the call. Just tell them my brother agreed.”

The soft, bouncy, incredibly elastic pressure against his back made Lu Ming’s whole body tingle. He froze completely, and with Nicole’s smooth, fragrant little hand pressed over his mouth, he didn’t dare move—afraid that if he opened his mouth, he might end up holding that dazzling, snow-white hand with his lips, making it seem as though he was taking liberties with his mischievous little sister.

Nicole’s sweet breath brushed his ear as she whispered, “Brother, they’re so pitiful… help them out, won’t you?”

Lu Ming felt half his body go numb and could no longer make a sound.

Seeing this, Luo Yi realized that even the Mayor himself was helpless before Miss Nicole. Not daring to delay any longer, she dutifully translated:

“The Mayor says he agrees to form marriage alliances with your two families.”

“Wonderful! It’s late already, so we won’t disturb the Mayor’s rest any further!”

Poporo was the first to jump up. A crafty old fox, he could tell that it was the mischievous beauty—hidden behind gold glasses and a mask, but clearly a rare stunner—who had forced the Mayor’s hand. Since this probably wasn’t Lu Ming’s own intention, Poporo knew it was best to leave immediately. Once an agreement was made, it couldn’t be undone the next day. After all, even their ancestor had been informed—if they went back on it now, would they want their ancestor to die of shame?

Hawkeye Luo also rose, placed a hand on his chest, and gave a slight bow. “Mayor, I will take my leave as well!”

Papaya simply stared at him through tear-filled eyes. Only when Hawkeye Luo’s figure disappeared down the grassy slope did the fair, lovely face she had worked so hard to maintain an elegant smile on completely lose its color and turn deathly pale, filled with despair.

…

In the third-floor bedroom of Wolong Fort, Lu Ming frowned as Nicole knocked and walked in.

Nicole stuck out her tongue mischievously. “Brother, I’ve settled her in. Do you want to visit her tonight? I don’t think she’d have any objections.”

“You just want to make sure I have no peace at all, don’t you?” Lu Ming said, half exasperated, half amused.

Nicole shook her head seriously. “Brother, I really do think they’re pitiful. You can just give them a place to stay. Later, if they want to leave, they can. It won’t harm you at all. Besides, if I want to travel here in the future, at least there’ll be somewhere to crash!”

Lu Ming waved his hand. “Since you’re the one who stirred this up, you’d better help me clean up the mess.”

Nicole giggled. “Brother, if you’re really not going over tonight, then I’ll call Luo Yi, Luo Er, and Papaya to come chat with me instead, alright?”

“Do as you like. Just ask around—see if there’s a way to send her back without hurting her relationship with Hawkeye Luo. As for the lake, the fishery, and the fishing families, I’ll take those.”

“Okay!” Nicole agreed and zipped off like a flash.

…

On the third floor of the fort, the night breeze was gentle and the sleep surprisingly good.

The only downside was that the wooden bed was a bit hard. No matter how many bedding layers he piled on, it didn’t feel anything like the soft, luxurious beds of Donghai.

Still, the firm bed helped him recover from fatigue.

At six o’clock, Lu Ming opened his eyes. In the western regions, dawn came late—outside, it was still pitch-black.

After getting up, he sat at his desk and started flipping through a thick dossier, mainly about local laws and customs.

As for Old Liu’s case, it seemed it would have to be resolved in court.

The Eight Cities Federation itself probably didn’t want to prosecute Old Liu, but the “victim” could still hire a private lawyer to sue.

What step was the decision-makers at Fira Petroleum aiming for?

Especially now that word had leaked, and Old Liu’s friends had arrived in the Eight Cities area.

Would they still push forward?

His own identity didn’t have much deterrent effect on them. Fira Petroleum had no direct business in Beiguan. Its network of gas stations there was actually a layout made by Donghai’s regional office for the entire metropolitan area. Beiguan had little say in it.

Of course, technically, he could pick faults and cause trouble for their gas stations in Beiguan, but it would be meaningless.

That bit of business was insignificant for Fira Petroleum.

Currently, the major oil companies in the Empire competed fiercely, but it was more of a collective monopoly rather than a life-or-death struggle.

Moreover, the people planning to exploit the western oilfields near the Eight Cities had probably little to do with the Donghai fuel supply department.

Fira Petroleum was in the middle of an intense internal succession struggle. It was even possible that different departments were fiercely competing against each other.

Thus, his position wouldn’t have much effect on the situation. If anything, it might make them take the matter even more seriously if they decided to proceed.

“Bring me a cup of coffee,” Lu Ming called out.

Outside, Luo Yi and Luo Er were taking turns on duty. They hadn’t expected him to wake up this early.

After leaving Donghai, during the long train rides, Lu Ming usually stayed up late reading and wouldn’t wake until eight or nine in the morning. Here, it was even later.

Because in the western regions, in February, even at eight o’clock Imperial Standard Time, it was still pitch dark outside.

Lu Ming buried himself back in his books. Beside him, a cup of rich, fragrant coffee was placed neatly on the desk. Lu Ming nodded, “Thank you.”

“Master, I… first brew… Is it okay…?”

The words were spoken with a stiff Central Continent accent, the voice soft and gentle—an indescribable feeling. It was like how a kind old neighbor might speak to a child, even though she called him “Master.”

Lu Ming, just about to flip another page, froze. He turned around in surprise—and saw a figure in white standing nearby.

Looking closer, he realized it was a beautiful woman with silver-white hair, wearing a thin, snow-white long dress. The fabric was that old-world synthetic fiber, like Dacron, once mass-exported from the Empire’s eastern regions to the western lands. In the Eight Cities area, anyone wearing a brand-new Dacron dress would surely be from a noble family.

The woman in white moved with surprising grace and had a lovely appearance. But hidden within her eyes was a kind of wisdom that no young person could possess—the kind of wisdom that only someone around sixty years old would have. A quality born from the slow accumulation of years.

“Master, I… am Sanjin Po. Meaning… Dragon Maiden…” she said haltingly.

Lu Ming had already guessed somewhat. He blinked in astonishment, thinking, Already? He didn’t know how to respond and just felt incredibly awkward.

Suddenly, he hurried to stand up.

After all, if this were on a bus, he probably ought to offer her his seat.

That wisdom in her eyes? Forget forty-five—this was definitely sixty-five.

“Am I… disturbing you, Master?” she asked.

“Ah, no, no…” Lu Ming waved his hands quickly, then grew curious.

“You can speak Central Continent language?”

“Too idle… Central Continent, Western, Eastern Seas, Southern Isles… I learn… a little.”

“Longxiang’s grandson’s Central Continent tongue… also, I…” she added, struggling to explain.

A walking encyclopedia? Lu Ming thought, smiling bitterly inside. So far, he had never met anyone who had studied all five major Federations’ languages.

“I… enlightened him… he… interest big… better than me…” she continued.

It was clear that she rarely had any opportunities to actually converse with Central Continent people—likely, most of her learning came from books and radio. Listening comprehension was probably her stronger suit, as Central Continent and Western languages had the most radio programming, which she often tuned into.

Lu Ming coughed. “You, you…” he started, but didn’t know how to continue.

“Nubile… forty-five… hair, not know… why white…” Sanjin Po said, evidently sensing his question—after all, his gaze had drifted over her silver hair several times.

Oh… Lu Ming recalled that Poporo had said this aunt had been on some form of lifelong fasting since childhood. Though it wasn’t the same as the Eastern vegetarianism he knew, selective eating probably led to some trace element deficiencies. Yet her silver hair was lustrous, not the dry, brittle white of aging. It was oddly beautiful.

“Master, I… won’t disturb you…” Sanjin Po finished, gave a slight curtsy, and retreated.

Lu Ming, overwhelmed, almost bowed back in return.

To be fair, this Sanjin Po wasn’t that old. In later times, many people didn’t marry until her age.

In fact, she was only about ten years older than Judge Christine.

But somehow, she gave off the aura of an elder steeped in the hardships of life—like a grandmother figure.

Maybe, a woman who never married truly lived differently.

And even more so, in the slave-based aristocratic families of Eight Cities, where girls took solemn vows from a young age.

Suddenly, Lu Ming had the impulse to call Christine. His spirits lifted a bit—Now I have an “auntie” ten years older than you. Still think you can act like some big elder around me? Who are you trying to lord it over, anyway?

He gave a bitter smile. What kind of nonsense am I thinking about?

From yesterday to now, all the bizarre events he had gone through had taken a heavy toll on his emotions.

If he really made that phone call now, once he got back to Donghai, Christine locking him up in a “small dark room” for a month would already be considered him cashing in all his past life’s accumulated good karma.

As for Sanjin Po, he still had to think of a way to settle things properly.

Just as he was mulling it over, there was a soft knock at the door.

Luo Yi entered, timidly handing him a slip of paper. “Third Auntie Sanjin asked me to give this to you, Master…” She clearly wasn’t sure whether she should be delivering it or not.

Lu Ming reached out and took the paper—only to find it covered in dense, delicate handwriting. Her written Central Continent script was much more refined than her spoken language.

The wording was extremely respectful, though rather strange—overloaded with extravagant phrases. The letter even began with: “To the Supreme, Ever-loyal, Eternally Obedient and Infinitely Submissive Honorable Master.”

The body of the letter was essentially her very carefully asking whether he had any other plans for the next few days.

If not, she had a “most fearful and reluctant request, kneeling ten thousand times to humbly beg Master’s indulgence.”

The suggestion was: to simply hold a brief ceremony today to formalize her, Papa Sprout, and himself, and then to notify the City Lord. That way, titles and claims over the land and population would be properly established, and from that moment on, the “Master higher than the heavens” would officially extend his “immense and noble hand that would henceforth cover the skies over Eight Cities.”

Reading this, Lu Ming couldn’t help but laugh. You think you’re clever, huh? But you’re still underestimating me. It’s not just about Eight Cities—try thinking on the scale of the whole Western Region.

Further down, she explained that a simple ceremony was not the same as a Donghai marriage,  and even if such a union was formed here, Donghai’s laws wouldn’t recognize it. Thus, it would have no legal impact on the “Infinitely Honored Master.” It would merely mean that, in the future, whenever he came to the West, he would have a home here.

Her second suggestion was that the “Giant Master whose wisdom rivals the Three Dragon Gods” attend tomorrow’s annual “Public Lake Fishing Tournament”— he wouldn’t need to participate, just observe— and from then on, the people of Eight Cities would truly regard him as one of their own.

Finally, the letter was filled with apologies, apologizing profusely for daring to even write this letter.

She signed it: “Your humble concubine, who forever hearkens to the thunderous voice descending from your towering figure in the heavens—Sanjin.”

Looking at the letter, Lu Ming scratched his head. First he found it funny… then, suddenly, a chill ran down his spine.

This old maid… was a little terrifying.

No, no, no—he definitely had to find a way to send her off.

Although, he had a faint feeling: if she truly chose to help him, her assistance could massively boost his ability to profit in the West.

But if her heart still belonged solely to the Poporo family, then he might very well be chewed to the bone and left with nothing here.

After all, he could only visit the Western Region once or twice a year— staying at most ten days, half a month if lucky.

Of course, if she truly understood who he really was, and what kind of cards he now held, then with her intelligence, she would definitely choose a win-win path.

Outside, Luo Yi knocked again, gently. “Master, the trade delegation has arrived at Eight Cities.”

Lu Ming answered casually—then suddenly chuckled to himself.

If I really did hold a ceremony today to marry two concubines, would Sherlock want to beat me to death?