Chapter Twenty-Five: The Pawn

Water rash was nothing more than chickenpox as it would be called in later times, a disease almost everyone caught in childhood. Although not fatal, it was highly contagious, and once afflicted, one’s body and face would be covered with red bumps—itchy and miserable.

At this moment, the eldest Young Master Sun’s face was covered in large welts. The mountain mosquitoes were especially fierce; their bites not only caused swelling but also blistered on top of the bumps, making him look exactly as though he’d broken out in a rash.

“Who are you calling water rash? You’re the water rash, your whole family is water rash!” Sun Bo’an exploded in anger.

Damn it, what rotten idea did Daoist Xiao give me? Insisting on divining the fates at dawn—now not only have I fed mosquitoes all night, but I’m also getting mocked by some peasant.

“You ignorant villager, step aside at once and let this young master in!”

“Oh, trying to act tough?!” Wu Ning’s eyes widened; he’d never seen anything like it.

“Who are you calling a peasant? You’re the peasant, your whole family is peasants! Have you ever seen a peasant as young as me?!”

Sun Bo’an bristled. Copying me, are you? He was so furious he forgot the dignity of a scholar.

“You little brat! How dare you call me a peasant? Do you know who I am?”

“Why should I care? With that rash all over your face, even if you’re the county magistrate’s son, you’d better cool off somewhere else!”

Damn!

Sun Bo’an almost cried. He really was the county magistrate’s son! He wanted to reveal his identity and scare the “peasant,” but thinking twice, what good was it for someone of his status to argue with a villager? If word got out, it’d sound awful.

“Is this an inn or not?” Young Master Sun decided to reason with the “peasant.”

“It is,” Wu Ning nodded.

“And inns are supposed to welcome guests, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Then when a guest arrives, you can’t keep the door shut, can you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why won’t you let me in?!”

Wu Ning remained calm. “Just you—no.”

“Damn!” Sun Bo’an swore again.

“I’ll pay!” When reasoning failed, he tried money.

Sun Bo’an was nothing if not stubborn: the more he was refused, the more he insisted.

Now, it was no longer about whether the inn was as good as Du Gu’ao and Lei Ji claimed—it was about him locking horns with Wu Ning.

“How much is a room?”

Wu Ning reflexively held up two fingers.

“One…two hundred coins.”

“Fine!” Sun Bo’an slapped his thigh. “I’ll pay two hundred!”

“No,” Wu Ning shook his head. “We don’t take plague victims.”

“Three hundred!”

“No.” Wu Ning raised his brows, gazing at the sky. “If you infect other guests, no amount would cover the loss.”

“It’s not chickenpox, they’re mosquito bites!”

“Still no.”

Truthfully, Wu Ning had already figured out it wasn’t the rash. At first glance, it looked like it—but upon closer inspection, besides his face, there were none on his hands, feet, or neck. Coupled with the fact that this man had likely stayed up all night, it was easy to tell. He simply didn’t like Sun Bo’an’s attitude.

“My other guests can’t tell if you’re sick or bitten. If they get scared and refuse to stay, who will I blame?”

“You—!” Sun Bo’an fumed. This brat always had a comeback.

“I don’t believe this. Four hundred coins a night!” Sun Bo’an glared fiercely. “Even if this is chickenpox, four hundred coins is enough for you to cure it!”

Wu Ning hesitated. Four hundred was a hefty sum—should he accept?

“No.” In the end, he stuck to his guns. “Still not possible. If I let you in, how could I ever rent this room again?”

“Damn it!” Sun Bo’an was utterly speechless. All this fuss over chickenpox? Was he treating it like the plague?

Wait, he didn’t even have the rash!

“Five hundred coins!” To hell with it—he’d go all out. “Not a coin more—if you’re still not satisfied…”

“Please, come in, sir.”

Sun Bo’an was in the middle of his outburst, but before he could finish, the “peasant” spun around so fast his face changed color, and the tightly shut wooden gate creaked open. Suddenly, the world was bright before Young Master Sun.

He felt no joy in this “victory” whatsoever.

———

Thus, after being fleeced by Wu Ning, Sun Bo’an finally earned the right to enter the inn. He didn’t notice that by now, several groups had gathered behind him—wealthy locals and scholars from Fangzhou, all curious after hearing Du Gu’ao, Lei Ji, and Boss Zhang sing the inn’s praises.

As they arrived, they overheard the county magistrate’s son drive up the price to five hundred coins per night, and the innkeeper still seemed dissatisfied.

Sometimes, people are truly irrational.

Hyped by earlier praise, now with the magistrate’s son testing the waters himself—and the gate swinging open to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of the courtyard—plus the crowds on the mountain, most realized there was no hope of a room that morning, perhaps not for several days.

No sooner had the gate opened than two scholars exchanged glances and rushed forward.

“Sir, we’ll take a room!”

Wu Ning, delighted, reached out, but they interrupted, “We know, five hundred coins a night!”

They’d brought servants with money bags. “Count out five hundred coins for the young master.”

“I’ll take one as well,” called an elder in fine robes, who followed suit and paid to enter.

Sun Bo’an sneered inwardly. “Hah! Only because I paved the way.”

He drew himself up, then produced a tael of silver—a sum few would dare to use except the son of the county magistrate. With a flourish, he tossed it to Wu Ning. “Give me a room.”

Before he finished speaking, Wu Ning tossed the silver back, nearly hitting Sun Bo’an in the waist.

With a radiant smile, Wu Ning declared, “Sorry, we’re full! Try again tomorrow.”

“You—” Sun Bo’an was stunned, gesturing at the gate, at Wu Ning, then at himself.

“I…”

“I!!!”

“Damn you! If you’re full, why didn’t you say so earlier?!”

“Because we weren’t full earlier,” Wu Ning replied innocently, pointing into the yard. “There are only two guest rooms. These two gentlemen arrived just in time.”

“I—” Sun Bo’an was beside himself, realizing he’d been beaten by the scholars and the old man.

“I… I reserved a room first!”

“But you didn’t pay.”

Wu Ning was thrilled. Where else could you find such perfect stooges?

He softened his tone. “Sir, better to go home. With your condition, it’s best to avoid walking about. For your sake and others—after all, spreading illness is a grave wrong.”

“I…” Sun Bo’an wanted to laugh and cry. Cry because he’d been so foolish; laugh because Wu Ning’s shamelessness was almost comical.

Why had he come to this wretched inn?

“I’m not sick!”

“Yes, you are…”

“I am not!!”

“Go home…”

“I really am not sick!!!”

“Then if you’re healthy, walk a few steps.”

“I’ll walk!” Sun Bo’an strode back and forth, thumping his chest. “See? I told you—I’m fine!”

———

Pilgrims on the mountain path all glanced over, wondering, “What’s gotten into the magistrate’s son?”

Wu Ning lounged atop the fence, barely able to contain his laughter. The opportunity was too good to pass up. He couldn’t resist shouting at Sun Bo’an:

“Not like that! Listen to me.”

“Left hand at six—yes, raise it!”

“Left hand at seven—no, seven! Yes, raise it too.”

“Next, listen carefully: left shoulder up, left shoulder down…”

“Good, keep it up!”

“Draw a circle with your left foot, kick with your right!”

“Yes, yes! Keep going just like that!”

———

Laughter exploded all along the mountain path.

Everyone watched as Young Master Sun, looking half-paralyzed, made a spectacle of himself.

Only then did Sun Bo’an realize he’d been made a fool of by that brat. His face turned pig-liver purple. He wanted to rush at Wu Ning, but with so many onlookers, he was paralyzed by embarrassment and rage.

Pointing at Wu Ning, he howled, “You peasant! This isn’t over!”

With that, he fled headlong down the mountain.

———

Wu Ning laughed so hard he nearly collapsed against the fence. He savored his triumph—trying to match wits with me? I’ll play you to death!

Turning around, he saw the two scholars and the old man staring at him, mouths agape.

As Wu Ning turned, all three bowed deeply with hands clasped in respect.

“May we ask, young sir—what is your name? Where do you hail from?”

“Huh?” Wu Ning was stunned. “I’m just a mountain boy—what need for such respect?”

He quickly composed himself, hurrying over. “Sirs, you flatter me! My name is Wu Ning, a humble lad from this mountain hollow, undeserving of your courtesy.”

“A humble lad… Wu Ning?”

The three exchanged looks of disbelief. An unknown mountain boy dared play such tricks on the county magistrate’s son?

“Truly?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Then…” One scholar pointed toward the direction Sun Bo’an had fled. “Does Young Master Wu know who that was?”

“No idea,” Wu Ning replied stiffly.

“That was Sun Bo’an, eldest son of Sun Qian, magistrate of Fangzhou.”

“Oh…”

“Oh!”

Wu Ning froze, his face draining of color.

After a long pause, he suddenly bellowed into the house, “Wu Qi! Hurry—run to town and fetch your father!”

“We’re in big trouble!”

———

This chapter is not short, and I have some matters to attend to tonight, so this may be all for now. There should be another chapter in the late hours.

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