Chapter 16: A Strange Visitor Enters the House

The irascible Lord Wang, notorious for his sharp tongue, hadn’t given Erhu the chance to properly scold this uncouth stranger before he fainted again, leaving Erhu and Luo Gan to groan in exasperation. Fortunately, the village was close by, and after a quick discussion, they decided to settle the matter by finding Lord Wang a place to rest.

Luo Gan’s modest room was now crowded with five people. Minion B stayed by Lord Wang’s bedside, tending to the incoherent patient with careful attention. Erhu, in ill humor, busied himself with cooking, while Minion A assisted Luo Gan in preparing the medicine, grumbling like a cloistered widow all the while.

Smoke billowed from the medicine pot as Luo Gan, chin propped in hand, waved his fan, oblivious to Minion A’s muttered complaints. The two fanned in opposite directions, causing the smoke to collide as if engaged in a quarrel.

Minion A complained, “I told you not to be so hasty, always suspicious, but you refused to listen. Now look what’s happened—who’s to blame?”

Luo Gan’s mind was elsewhere, pondering the connection between the Peach Blossom Fan, the Three Hundred Tang Poems, and the rat demon. His brow was knit in worry; so many days had passed, and with a year’s deadline looming, he felt increasingly anxious.

Minion A, unconcerned whether Luo Gan heard him, continued his tirade with gusto. “That blockheaded courier was so aggressive, and I just slapped him!”

As he gestured, his hand accidentally struck Luo Gan’s face, eliciting an “Ouch!” from Luo Gan. The fan caught fire, and Minion A hastily apologized.

Suddenly, Luo Gan’s vision flickered—a clue’s progress had reached five percent. Glancing over, he saw important information glowing on Minion B, instantly drawing all his attention.

Luo Gan hurriedly opened the medicine pot and sniffed; the brew was nearly ready. He quickly directed the apologetic Minion A to fetch a bowl for the medicinal soup, then carried it himself to Lord Wang.

Erhu, noticing the firewood was running low and the flames beneath the pot waning, grabbed a hatchet and went outside.

Minion B received the medicine, picked up a spoon, and fed the weakened Lord Wang, who coughed—a sign of life at least.

Lord Wang croaked, “Medicine…”

Minion B asked, “What do you need, my lord?”

Lord Wang grimaced, “The medicine… it stinks…”

Lord Wang’s complaints were endless. Even with medicine offered, he found fault, a professional irritant. Despite his plain attire, he looked anything but ordinary—his entire bearing reeked of officialdom, pungent and unmistakable. He was robust, his face tinged with a purplish hue, clearly accustomed to physical exertion.

Luo Gan explained, “This is a folk remedy, passed down in the village for generations. It’s meant for common folk.”

Lord Wang, eyes darting shiftily, retorted, “No wonder it tastes so odd—sour and peculiar. Definitely not mainstream.”

Luo Gan replied, “Alternative doesn’t mean inferior.”

Lord Wang countered, “But is alternative necessarily good?”

Luo Gan was stymied by this contrarian. People say such nitpickers are sent to torment mortals, and Lord Wang fit the bill perfectly.

Lord Wang, realizing he was in a shabby room, began pointing out flaws, voicing his grievances.

Luo Gan, with disdain, said, “Honestly! You’re far too pampered. We’re ordinary folk—no need for your fussing.”

He’d barely been here a month, but Luo Gan felt fully immersed in the role of a common man. He found such finicky people repulsive; each day he toiled, anxious and weary, with no leisure to worry about quality of life. It was laughable, reminiscent of the emperor who asked, “Why not eat minced meat?” When survival is uncertain, comfort is a luxury.

Lord Wang grumbled, “Who puts the stove next to the latrine? Isn’t it…”

Minion B continued to feed Lord Wang, who suddenly realized something and spat out the medicine.

Luo Gan observed calmly, “Don’t worry, the medicine pot wasn’t near there, and there’s no poison in the medicine. Drink it or don’t.”

He felt helpless, his face expressionless, doubting whether inviting this troublesome guest had been wise.

While Minion B fed Lord Wang, Luo Gan pondered how to extract information from him.

Luo Gan began, “Since you’ve graced my humble home, there are some things I must ask.”

Lord Wang, irritated, snapped, “Came from Youzhou on business, trading gold and silver, that’s all!”

Luo Gan protested, “I haven’t even asked yet…”

Lord Wang barked, “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out! Otherwise, go stand outside as punishment, or I’ll have you flogged.”

His overbearing manner made it impossible to feel any goodwill.

Suppressing his displeasure, Luo Gan said, “It seems you’re no ordinary folk. If your business is legitimate, why were you so flustered?”

Minion B, seeing his master’s impatience, hurried to explain, “It’s my fault. I left the money on the table without explaining, so they thought we were trying to cheat them. That’s why things got out of hand.”

Erhu returned with some meat—steamed portions for the minions and Lord Wang, and a larger plate for Luo Gan, along with some water, which upon sniffing turned out to be wine. Luo Gan and Erhu exchanged knowing smiles.

Lord Wang noticed and immediately feigned distress.

He exclaimed, “Oh! Oh! My head aches, my stomach hurts, my back aches—everything hurts!”

Minion B’s face briefly flashed with resignation, but he dutifully soothed his master.

Erhu had no patience for Lord Wang, and the two had already exchanged insults like strangers owing a fortune.

Luo Gan, needing a favor, quietly asked the amiable Minion B, “What’s wrong with your lord?”

Minion B, embarrassed, replied, “He’s always been like this—aches all over, limp and lethargic.”

Luo Gan worried, “What should we do? If he dies in my home, it’ll be hard to explain.”

Erhu grumbled, “I think unlucky people bring bad luck, even at home.”

Lord Wang thundered, “Who’s going to die here? I’ve seen the world—I’m just cold, but I’ll live decades yet!”

He closed his eyes and began flailing on the bed, making frog-swimming motions and emitting bizarre cries, desperate for attention.

Luo Gan said, “Get a physician to treat his head.”

Erhu added, “That’d cost too much. Or we could toss him in the river and feed the fish.”

Minion B quickly intervened, “Please, gentlemen, my lord isn’t bad at heart, it’s just…”

He pulled Luo Gan and Erhu aside, and the three whispered together while Lord Wang peeked at them slyly.

Minion B confided, “We’ve spent all our travel funds. My lord wants some wine but is too embarrassed to ask directly.”

Luo Gan and Erhu sighed—what peculiar people!

Erhu grumbled, “Wine? This fellow caused us enough trouble and now wants more!”

Luo Gan glanced at the water pouch Erhu had given him, thought for a moment, and handed it to Minion B.

Erhu slapped Luo Gan’s back, “Luo, you’re too soft-hearted!”

Luo Gan replied, “You’re no different, Tiger!”

Erhu pointed at Lord Wang, who was gulping down wine, “Get well soon! Don’t forget to pay for the wine. If you can’t, you’ll work in the fields.”

Lord Wang choked, “What? You dare make me work?”

Minion B quickly mediated, “No, no, it’s fine—we’ll handle the work ourselves… right?”

He called to Minion A, who languidly lifted the curtain and gazed into the distance. The chill of autumn had arrived, and all around, farmers harvested rice with sickles. In no time, the fields were etched with furrows, deep and shallow.

Minion A murmured to himself, “It’s a good year…”