Chapter 142: A Letter To Lin Laifu

Lu Feng dipped his brush, set it to the paper, and immediately crossed out the first line he’d written.

’Too blunt.’ He thought to himself.

Lin Laifu had nearly died a few days ago. Opening a letter to him with a demand felt like the wrong note to strike, even if the demand itself was reasonable enough. He set the ruined sheet aside and started fresh.

He stared at that line for a long moment, then scratched it out too. ’Too soft.’

He needed Lin Laifu to understand this wasn’t idle correspondence checking in on his health. There was a plan behind it, one that depended on precise timing.

He pulled a third sheet toward himself, breathed out slowly, and let the brush move without second guessing every stroke this time.

I trust you’re recovering well and that today’s celebration didn’t wear you down more than your body could spare. I have a matter I’d like your help with.

I have another batch of pills ready to move, more than the last. But I don’t want a separate auction built around them the way we did before. I want your next official auction date, whenever that would naturally fall. The real one, with your usual full guest list, merchants, officials, buyers from outside the city if any are expected. Don’t shrink the guest list to accommodate the pills. Grow the crowd as much as you can.

The more people in that room, the better this serves what I have in mind.

Send your answer back the same way this reaches you, and let Ye Chenxue wait for it. I’d rather have it today than tomorrow, if it can be helped.

Lu Feng.»

He read it through twice, satisfied this time with the balance he’d struck, request wrapped around instruction, urgency without demand.

He folded the paper into thirds, reached for a short length of red thread from the small dish on his desk, and tied it snug around the fold.

With the letter secured, he rose and went looking for Old Ma.

The carriage sat exactly where it always did, parked neatly near the stables, its dark wood polished and its wheels freshly greased.

Old Ma himself was nowhere in sight. Lu Feng checked the stables proper, ducking past two of the horses who nosed hopefully at his empty hands, then the small quarters set aside for the household’s driver and grooms, the door standing open on an empty room with a neatly made cot.

He even poked his head into the little shed where Old Ma kept his harness leather and polishing rags, half expecting to find him elbow deep in some small repair. However, the tools hung undisturbed on their hooks.

A young stable hand glanced up from mucking out a stall as Lu Feng passed, offering a quick bow. "Looking for someone, Young Master?"

It was a young boy that liked Old Ma so much that Lin Laifu had sent him to Lu Feng to continue living with the old man.

"Old Ma. Have you seen him this morning?"

The young boy shook his head. "Not since before dawn, Young Master. He was already gone by the time I woke up."

"Where does an old man hide in a place this size," Lu Feng muttered to himself, and went to find someone who might actually know.

He found Bai Bao near the training grounds, running a whetstone along the edge of his blade with slow, even strokes.

"Bai Bao." Lu Feng waved him over. "Have you seen Old Ma? I’ve checked everywhere I can think of."

Bai Bao set the whetstone down and straightened. "He’s still within the walls, Young Master. Just not anywhere you’d think to look."

"Where, then?"

"The morning after you had Song Heng and I move the captured intruders to the new holding site, Lady Ye put Old Ma in charge of watching them. Bringing their meals. Keeping an eye on their condition." Bai Bao paused, something careful entering his voice. "And handling things with a firmer hand, if it came to that."

Lu Feng blinked. "Old Ma. Guarding prisoners."

"He’s older, yes. Don’t let that fool you." A faint note of respect crept into Bai Bao’s tone. "There’s a proper martial build under those weathered hands of his. Lady Ye saw it before the rest of us did, apparently."

"Take me there," Lu Feng said. "I want to see this for myself."

Bai Bao nodded and led the way, cutting through a quieter stretch of the estate toward a squat, windowless outbuilding tucked near the rear wall, the kind of structure that had probably stored grain or tools before the original owners has decided to leave the entire estate and move elsewhere.

Weeds had grown up thick around its base, and the single door hung slightly crooked on its hinges, giving the whole thing the look of a place nobody was ever meant to look at twice.

Before they’d even rounded the final corner, the crackle of a fire reached them, followed by the sharp, acrid smell of heated iron.

They came around the corner to find Old Ma crouched beside a small fire he’d clearly built himself, feeding a length of iron rod into the flames.

His weathered face set in a look of stern, deliberate focus entirely at odds with the gentle old man who spent most of his days murmuring softly to nervous horses.

By the time Lu Feng and Bai Bao closed the last of the distance, Old Ma had already drawn the rod free, its tip glowing a dull, threatening orange, and was advancing it slowly toward the two bound men sitting against the far wall.

"Old Ma." Lu Feng’s voice cracked through the small yard like a whip. "What exactly are you doing?"

For the briefest flicker of a moment, something that might have been relief crossed both prisoners’ faces, their shoulders sagging at the sound of a new voice arriving to interrupt whatever had been about to happen.

Lu Feng noticed it. He found he didn’t particularly care either way.

Old Ma jumped like a boy caught with his hand in the sweets jar, clapping the back of his own head with a sheepish laugh as he lowered the glowing rod away from its target.

"Ah, Young Master. I didn’t hear ya coming." He set the rod down carefully beside the fire, still glowing faintly, and straightened with what dignity he could manage. "These two have refused every meal I’ve brought them the past two days. And this morning, this one here," he jabbed a thumb toward the prisoner on the left, "told me exactly what his friends would do to an old man like me once they came looking for him. I figured it was past time I reminded them who they’re actually dealing with."

"With a hot iron," Lu Feng said flatly.

"Just enough of a mark to help them remember," Old Ma said, entirely unbothered. "A man forgets a threat made in anger quick enough. He doesn’t forget a burn."

Lu Feng let out a long breath and rubbed at his temple.

Every single person in this household, it seemed, carried some hidden well of brutality just beneath an otherwise ordinary surface, and every one of them seemed more comfortable reaching for it than the last.

Song Heng, barely a week into his post, had already offered to behead these same two men without blinking. Bai Bao had quietly canceled an entire afternoon of Lu Feng’s social obligations without asking first. And now Old Ma, gentle old Old Ma, stood here fully prepared to brand a grown man over a skipped meal and an empty threat.

Who was next? Aunt Gao, threatening to starve everyone if the household didn’t behave? He almost laughed despite the grim little scene in front of him, some part of him quietly grateful that whatever ferocity lived in these people, all of it seemed pointed squarely at threats to the household and nowhere else.

"Put it down," Lu Feng said, nodding toward the iron. "Let the fire burn itself out. They can go hungry tonight if starving themselves is truly what they’d prefer, but nobody’s branding anyone under my roof without my say so first."

Old Ma looked faintly disappointed but obeyed without argument, kicking a scatter of loose dirt over the flames until they hissed and died.

"I have a task for you instead," Lu Feng said, reaching into his robe and drawing out the folded, thread bound letter. He held it out. "Find Ye Chenxue and give her this. The two of you will take the estate carriage to Lin Laifu’s residence and deliver it to him personally. Wait there for his reply, sealed the same way, and bring it straight back to me. Don’t linger once it’s in hand."

Old Ma took the letter with far more gentleness than he’d shown the iron rod a moment earlier, tucking it carefully into his own robe. "Understood, Young Master. Should I fetch Song Heng along as well? Extra hands on the road never hurt."

"No." Lu Feng had already weighed that option and set it aside. "I considered it, but I’m not willing to risk two of my people on the road together, not after everything that’s happened lately. If something went wrong, an ambush, someone trying to grab either of you, I’d rather lose the fewest hands possible to it." He glanced toward Bai Bao. "Ye Chenxue isn’t at risk the same way the rest of you would be. No ordinary group of thugs is taking her against her will. Likely not even a low level cultivator. I’m certain of that much."

"A wise precaution, Young Master," Old Ma said, nodding slowly. "I’ve driven these roads long enough to know a quiet trip can turn dangerous quicker than anyone expects."

"Exactly why I want you moving quickly and carefully both," Lu Feng said. "Deliver it, wait, and come straight back."

"Understood." Old Ma tucked the letter more snugly against his chest and turned to head for the carriage.

"Bai Bao," Lu Feng continued, "go with him as far as finding Ye Chenxue, and make sure everything’s arranged properly before they set out. Once they’ve actually left the estate, come find me and report."

"Understood, Young Master." Bai Bao offered a short bow, and the two of them set off together, Old Ma trailing slightly behind, already muttering something about needing clean sleeves before presenting himself properly to Lady Ye.

That left Lu Feng alone in the small enclosure with the two bound prisoners, the last thin curl of smoke still rising from the smothered fire beside them.

He turned toward them fully, studying their faces for the first time since he’d interrupted Old Ma’s plans for them. Neither man looked particularly well, gaunt around the eyes after two days of refusing food out of whatever stubborn pride had convinced them starvation was a meaningful form of resistance.

Rope bit into their wrists, chafed raw in places, and the younger of the two had a fading bruise along one cheekbone that looked like it predated their capture by some time.

Lu Feng offered them both a warm, easy smile, the kind that had nothing at all to do with the calculation sitting quiet and cold behind his eyes.

"How have you both been?" he asked, pleasant as though inquiring after old acquaintances rather than men who’d broken into his home searching for something he still hadn’t fully identified.

Neither answered. One of them shifted uneasily against the wall, his bound wrists scraping softly over stone. The other kept his eyes fixed on the ground between his knees, jaw clenched tight enough that a small muscle jumped along the side of his face.

"I’ve come bearing good tidings," Lu Feng added, letting the smile widen just a touch further. "For one of you, at least."