Brother, Brother, But I'm a Profligate! - Chapter 2

There was only one mountain path, surrounded by pitch-black darkness, with the moonlight casting a thin, silvery glow on the ground.

Ming Si did not enter the mountains, fearing he would lose his way or be bitten by snakes and insects; he simply followed the path southward.

Unfortunately, his body had not fully recovered, and Fu Jing’s men were quick to react. It was not long before he was overtaken.

Upon hearing the sound of galloping hooves behind him, Ming Si turned his head. In the distance, several figures were racing toward him with the speed of lightning. By the time he tried to hide in the nearby bushes, they had already surrounded him on horseback.

A guard rushed forward and grabbed Ming Si by the shoulder. Ming Si’s face turned pale from the pain. “Let go!”

Qiu Yuan, leading the guards, saw this and shouted a reprimand. “The young master is not a prisoner. Do not use such tactics on him.”

At the end of the mountain path, the sound of hooves continued as several guards carrying torches arrived a few steps behind. Ming Si recognized their faces and remembered the voice. It belonged to the personal guard who had shouted a reprimand while standing beside Fu Jing earlier that day.

The grip on Ming Si’s shoulder loosened. He straightened up, adjusted his pulled-down outer robe, and rubbed his shoulder to ease the pain.

Qiu Yuan spoke with a neutral expression. “Young Master, it is late. Please return with us. We mean no harm.”

There were over a dozen guards. Ming Si glanced at them, then bowed deeply after a moment. His handsome features made him appear obedient and innocent. He looked both surprised and bewildered.

“Sirs, perhaps you have the wrong person. I am but a commoner; I am no young master.”

The youth looked at the guards timidly. “You are not looking for money, are you? I have none.”

Qiu Yuan countered, “Are you not Master Ming Si?”

Ming Si lowered his eyes and replied without hesitation, “I am not.”

The guard who had previously grabbed Ming Si’s shoulder sneered. “Lord Qiu, why waste words with him? Just take him back and finish the job.”

“If the Eldest Young Master had not arrived in time a few days ago, he would have died of illness. How can he be so arrogant now?”

The guard grumbled, his attitude filled with dissatisfaction. He wanted to say more, but Qiu Yuan silenced him with a sharp glare, forcing him to swallow his words.

Qiu Yuan glanced at the talkative guard before speaking matter-of-factly. “It seems the Young Master has slept for too long and is confused. Surely Qian Liao and Wen Zhong from the Zhang Manor, as well as Master Jiang from the magistrate’s office, would not all misidentify you.”

Qian Liao and Wen Zhong were the bookkeepers Ming Si had worked with in Chuzhou, and Master Jiang was the clerk he dealt with for official business. By clearly stating Ming Si’s social circle, they revealed they had investigated him thoroughly.

Ming Si’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his shoulder tighter. His expression grew cold.

Qiu Yuan cupped his hands. “We are the Fu”

Ming Si interrupted him, “My mother is dead. I have nothing to do with your Fu family.”

When he first woke up, he had overheard two servants gossiping about two things: first, that the Fu family had sent people to take him to Shengjing; second, that Fu Anhuai might adopt him as a foster son. He did not know if the latter was true, but the idea was disgusting.

Ming Si never believed his mother was at fault. He blamed the man who could not control his heart and had lured his mother away. Fu Anhuai had taken her in but failed to protect her. That was Fu Anhuai’s fault.

Ming Si hated himself for surviving and resented the Fu family as the root of the tragedy.

Ming Si turned to the guards behind him, his gaze icy. “Move!”

The atmosphere suddenly grew tense.

Qiu Yuan made a hand gesture, signaling the guards not to move. “Since the Young Master already knows our identity, why such hostility?”

Ming Si sneered, “Your Fu family is a nest of jinxes. Was it not enough that you caused my mother’s death?”

Qiu Yuan paused. “Young Master! Young Master!”

Suddenly, Ming Si swung his fist at a guard.

No one expected Ming Si to strike first. The guard who had spoken out earlier was caught off guard and staggered back two steps. The other guards instinctively reached for the sabers at their waists, prepared to draw their blades.

Qiu Yuan raised his hand just in time. “Do not strike!”

Ming Si roared, “Get away! Get away! Roll out of here!”

Ming Si had not yet recovered from his illness; fighting Qiu Yuan’s guards was like an ant trying to shake a tree. The guards only defended themselves without hitting back. Ming Si’s blocked strikes only made him more frustrated.

He kicked and punched, his heart full of indignation with no outlet. The anger built up until his blood boiled, his ears began to ring, and his vision went black as he fainted.

Qiu Yuan brought Ming Si to the second floor of an inn and summoned an old physician to check his pulse. Once Ming Si was settled, Qiu Yuan hurried to his master.

He repeated every word Ming Si had said to Fu Jing.

As the saying goes, a newborn calf does not fear the tiger. When Qiu Yuan reached the part about jinxes, his lip twitched. If they were in Shengjing, who would dare speak to the Eldest Young Master like that?

Fu Jing showed no anger, merely smiling calmly. “If he has resentment in his heart, let him vent it.”

When the talkative guard was mentioned, Fu Jing’s smile faded slightly. The guards they brought this time belonged to the Fu family, representing Fu Anhuai, rather than Fu Jing’s personal staff. Although they worked in the same manor, the standards of discipline were vastly different.

Fu Jing said, “Slap him across the face as punishment.”

Afterward, Fu Jing went to check on Ming Si. The old physician had just finished and prescribed some mild tonics for recovery.

After the physician was sent away, Fu Jing pulled back the bed curtains to observe Ming Si before heading out to give further instructions.

Inside the room, a lotus-shaped candlestick sat on a camphor-lacquered table. The red candle burned all night until the flame died out in a wisp of grey smoke. The dim morning light began to filter through the lattice windows.

When Ming Si opened his eyes again, he found himself back in bed. The room smelled strongly of medicine, but he felt slightly better.

As expected, he had not escaped; they had brought him back.

He lay still for a moment, then lifted the bed curtain. Seeing no one, he quickly got out of bed and threw on the clothes from the rack.

The room was quiet. This time, no one was guarding his bedside. His mind raced as he walked toward the door with light steps.

The beaded curtains behind him clattered as they swayed. Ming Si’s nerves were taut. He rounded a screen and suddenly froze.

A man sat at the table, holding a book. He wore an indigo-blue silk robe with a collar as white as snow. Even while seated, he appeared tall with broad shoulders and long legs. Hearing footsteps, the man turned slightly to look at him, his phoenix eyes reflecting a deep, restrained aura.

The man smiled. “Why are you standing there instead of coming over?”

Ming Si stood against the wall. The man in the room had to be the Eldest Young Master they spoke of, Fu Anhuai’s eldest son, Fu Jing.

Ming Si remained still. “Master Fu, I am not a servant of your Fu family.”

The man looked surprised. “Who treated you like a servant?”

“Then why restrict my movements? My mother is dead; what else do you want?” Irritation clouded Ming Si’s brow. “I want to go back to Chuzhou!”

For the past month, he had been wandering Chuzhou, investigating the bandits who killed his mother. The longer it took, the harder they would be to find. He had no time to waste.

Since his mother’s death, Ming Si had been in a constant state of anxiety. As he thought of Chuzhou, he pressed his toe into the wooden floor, grinding it back and forth.

Fu Jing took a sip of tea, interrupting his thoughts with a light laugh. “Go to Chuzhou for what? To find those bandits? To continue throwing money at the magistrate’s office? Or to wander into the mountains yourself?”

Ming Si clenched his fists, his anger from the previous night resurfacing. He walked past Fu Jing toward the door.

He pulled it open, but two guards blocked his path.

Fu Jing set down his teacup without turning around. “Since the Young Master is awake, have someone bring the simmered porridge.”

One of the guards outside acknowledged the order and left to pass the word. Soon, more guards appeared downstairs, lining up to secure the second floor.

Ming Si kicked the door in frustration. “I said I am leaving! Do you not understand human speech?”

The Fu family! Why were they so haunting?

“Your Fu family could not protect my mother. Can I not go find the bandits who killed her myself?”

“Yes! I, Ming Si, am nothing compared to your Fu family! This is all I can do! I will waste my money begging the magistrate’s office for help! I will dive into the mountains alone!”

His voice cracked by the end of his outburst.

The shout was loud enough for everyone on the second floor of the inn to hear. People lowered their heads, moving cautiously.

Fu Jing’s tone remained peaceful. “Do not be anxious. Listen to me first.”

The knife was not stabbing him, so of course he was not anxious. Ming Si looked away. “What is there to say to your Fu family? If you are so capable, give me my mother back!”

“I have already sent men to investigate your mother’s case. Stay here and wait; I will tell you when there is news.” Fu Jing looked back at him. Ming Si turned his head, his expression momentarily freezing. “With your old methods, you might never find them.”

“Consider it a deal. Come with me to Shengjing, and I will assign men to the search. We will not stop until the killers are found, alright?”

Fu Jing rose from his seat, his presence quite imposing as he walked toward him.

Ming Si took a step back. Fu Jing bypassed him, took the porridge from a guard, and placed it on the table.

The man tapped his fingers on the table, creating a dull, prompting sound.

The group stayed at the inn for an extra day. After receiving letters from Shengjing, Fu Jing became busy with official business. Meanwhile, Ming Si spent his time pestering Qiu Yuan for news about his mother.

He had replaced the term jinx with Eldest Young Master, and his tone had softened. The guards did not know what had changed; they only saw his shift from arrogance to servility. There was plenty of gossip behind his back.

Ming Si did not care; he only cared about the lifeline he was clinging to. “How many people did the Eldest Young Master send to find the bandits?”

Qiu Yuan replied, “Eight men were sent ahead.”

Ming Si frowned. “The group escorting my mother had over a dozen people, and they all died. You only sent eight?”

“They are the Eldest Young Master’s secret guards. Their skills are one in a thousand,” Qiu Yuan explained further. “They are ten or a hundred times better than the guards accompanying us here.”

“What if there are a hundred bandits?”

“Once the location is found, we will notify the local authorities to suppress them.”

Ming Si felt this was unreliable. He had pushed the magistrate for so long, and they barely lifted a finger. The idea of them willingly suppressing bandits seemed like a fantasy. Who would take on such a thankless task? He asked, “How long until we get news?”

Qiu Yuan looked troubled. “Chuzhou has many mountains and several bandit strongholds. It is hard to say how long it will take to pinpoint exactly which group it was.”

“Then I am just supposed to wait indefinitely? How do I know you actually sent people and are not just lying to me?” Ming Si’s frown deepened.

Qiu Yuan was not a man of many words. He was skilled at threatening and killing, and usually handled intelligence and interrogations for Fu Jing. He did not know how to handle Ming Si’s sensitive nature. Fearing he would say the wrong thing, he remained silent.

Having failed to get any useful information, Ming Si thought about them taking him to Shengjing. He asked hesitantly, “Why are you taking me to Shengjing?”

“When I woke up yesterday, I heard those two chatting. They said Fu Anhuai, your master, wants to adopt me as a foster son?”

Qiu Yuan remained noncommittal. “The Eldest Young Master is simply following the Master’s orders to bring you back. As for the arrangements, that is for the Master to decide. The Fu family is vast; there will always be a place for you.”

Ming Si nodded slowly, feeling increasingly displeased.

The people around Fu Jing were masters at side-stepping his questions, just like the people Fu Anhuai had sent to bring his mother to the capital.

As Qiu Yuan prepared to leave, Ming Si added one last thing. “I wonder when your Eldest Young Master will finish his business? I want to ask him about my mother again. Please let him know.”

Qiu Yuan nodded and departed.

Ming Si no longer had to work as a bookkeeper for wealthy merchants, play games with the magistrate’s runners, or search the mountains alone. With nothing to do, his thoughts drifted to the corners of his memory.

The first time Ming Si had heard of Fu Jing, it was not as the Eldest Young Master of the Fu Family.

Five years ago, Fu Jing had accompanied the Crown Prince south to Nanjing and stayed for three years. Many areas in the Jianghuai region were flooded at the time. Cities became lakes, and people were like fish and turtles. While the Crown Prince managed the overall situation in Nanjing, Fu Jing led teams to survey the terrain to build dams and handle the refugees. He petitioned the imperial court to implement work-for-relief programs, which led to the construction of many dams.

Today, though the Jianghuai rivers still flowed fiercely into the sea, the flooding was far less severe than in previous years.

In a way, if Fu Jing were an official, he would be seen by the people as a clear sky official, upright and deeply respected.

The group was set to leave for the capital the next morning. Fu Jing was still busy, and Ming Si had a stomach full of questions he could not ask. Tossing and turning at night, he felt that he was now just like those refugees of years past, waiting for Fu Jing to distribute grain and build dams.

Unable to sleep and hearing movement outside, he draped a robe over his shoulders and walked to the window. Below, the guards were already packing bags and feeding the horses.

The moon hung high, its light clear and bright. Someone knocked on his door and called out, “Young Master, it is time to depart.”

Ming Si packed his things and left the inn. He stood before the carriage he had used last time. The driver urged him to get in, but Ming Si simply said to wait a moment while he looked around for someone.

Finally, he saw Fu Jing emerge. Ming Si’s eyes lit up, and he was about to go over, but he saw several black-clad guards following Fu Jing. Fu Jing was giving instructions, and the group hurriedly walked toward the front carriage.

Ming Si’s shoulders slumped slightly. After a long moment, he lowered his head and climbed into his carriage.

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