Chapter 258: Shanxi Merchant Qiao Family

Chapter 258: The Qiao Family of Shanxi Merchants

Zhao Changhe could not read the proprietary expression on the landlady's face, nor could he discern any subtext within her words. Yet, choosing not to press the matter, he merely offered a faint smile, gave the menu a slight wave, and asked, "It seems to be all braised this and hand-torn that. I find myself rather uninspired. Since you have southern osmanthus wine available, is there perhaps any southern home-style stir-fry?"

The landlady laughed and countered, "Most people adapt to local customs. When traveling abroad, one should prefer to try the regional fare. Who on earth comes all the way to the northern frontier searching for Jiangnan?"

Zhao Changhe replied, "It was but a casual inquiry. Is there truly none?"

A ripple of movement entered the landlady's eyes. "If you must have it, it is not entirely impossible, but it will cost extra."

"Meaning rarity commands a premium?"

"Meaning custom preparation is quite a nuisance," she explained. "Different ingredients, unique utensils, specific condiments—there is usually no demand for them. If left sitting there, they spoil within days, so naturally we do not keep them on hand. If you want a bespoke meal, we must go out and purchase the goods now. The expense and the labor will, of course, require a heavier contribution from your purse. Do not go saying we are slaughtering you like a pig. Is that fair or is that not fair?"

Zhao Changhe clapped his hands and laughed, "Reasoned and justified. It is fair indeed."

"Hey, San Niang!" the drinkers called out in shared displeasure. "Why is it that the moment this brat arrives, you chatter on endlessly with him? He is hardly remarkably handsome. That frame of his looks decent enough, but around these parts, you can scoop them up by the handful!"

San Niang glared at the crowd. "This old lady talks to whomever she damn well pleases. Is it any of your business?"

Someone chimed in, "Could it simply be because he wants Jiangnan cuisine? We can order that too, you know."

Zhao Changhe let out a quiet sigh. With the way these fellows fawned over her, it was a wonder she didn't outright dismiss them as wretched; why must they persist?

Sure enough, San Niang spoke with a cheerful chuckle, "Because he does not desire any coquetry. Therefore, this old lady will be just a fraction more wholesome. That is what I call proper hospitality."

The crowd fell into a collective silence.

Zhao Changhe set down the menu. "Just bring me a portion of the hand-torn lamb leg, then. No need for extra trouble."

San Niang felt a sudden touch of dull disappointment and continued her inquiry with a hint of perfunctoriness, "Do you require someone to keep you company? A very wholesome sort."

Discerning the superficiality in her tone, Zhao Changhe responded flatly, "I intend to eat. Your fragrance spoils the appetite."

"Bah." Rebuffed and slighted, San Niang twisted her supple waist and cursed as she walked away, "Hurry up with the wine already! What are you lingering there for!"

Seeing that the water had been leveled evenly between them, the patrons lost their jealousy and began chatting among themselves once more with easy laughter. One man turned toward Zhao Changhe and remarked, "Brother, that trick of pretending to be uninterested—plenty of people have tried it over the years. It is useless... Carry it too far, and you might well catch a beating."

Zhao Changhe smiled and offered no reply.

As if everyone were as desperately smitten with San Niang as they were; was it truly necessary? At best, her figure resembled Huangfu Qing's, and their enchantments held a similar flavor, but San Niang's coquetry was a touch excessive, lacking the balanced restraint of Huangfu Qing. Moreover, Huangfu Qing possessed an innate nobility; she was far superior!

Truth be told, with such a magnificent gem preceding her, he truly possessed little interest. Heaven only knew which formidable figure claimed her as a private concubine; one would have to be utterly foolish to invite such trouble.

Before long, both the hand-torn lamb leg and the osmanthus wine were served. Zhao Changhe took the opportunity to hand the waiter a piece of silver, bidding him to care for his black stallion, Wuzhui, while he himself focused on eating and contemplating his thoughts.

His exchange with San Niang had been an exercise in mutual probing. Take the Jiangnan cuisine, for instance: regardless of whether the ingredients existed, so long as someone knew how to prepare it, it meant the cooks hailed from the south rather than being local hires. This revealed that the establishment was a small, organized faction composed of people from the Great Xia—specifically from Jiangnan—and not merely a shop that imported osmanthus wine for sale.

Meanwhile, San Niang's response indicated that though someone could cook it, they themselves no longer ate in that manner, and the absence of stocked southern ingredients proved they maintained no long-term, active traffic with the south, warning him against further snooping. Yet, she simultaneously conveyed that if he wished to arrange a particular transaction, he could pay extra; a fair trade was all it took.

How could these patrons, their minds entirely filled with visions of peaks and slender waists, ever comprehend such nuances?

Judging by San Niang's hint regarding trade, if one suggested she belonged to Huangfu Xian's faction, the Demon Suppressing Bureau, or a certain power on the grasslands, those three possibilities could roughly be ruled out. On the other hand, belonging to Ying Wu or the Sixiang Sect would both be entirely plausible.

Yet, neither of those two possibilities could be trusted blindly. He possessed no token of the Sixiang Sect, and in the understanding of the general discipleship, he was still considered an enemy, albeit one of lower priority; there was no telling what might happen if he fell into their hands.

As for Ying Wu's people, though their organizational stance claimed to be a fair trade in information, the specific individuals in charge of various branches might not necessarily align. Having lingered here for so long, who could say if any biases had developed? He shared no prior acquaintance with them, so how could he dare rely on them carelessly?

Nevertheless, since his identity remained unexposed, utilizing a disguise and a pseudonym to purchase some less sensitive intelligence should still be entirely feasible.

Just as this thought crossed his mind, two more individuals entered through the door. Zhao Changhe cast an instinctual glance toward them, and a touch of coldness immediately entered his eyes.

It was precisely the leaders of the caravan from that evening—one middle-aged man, and one youth.

San Niang slipped back to Zhao Changhe's side, offering a placating smile as she asked, "Young master, more guests have arrived. It so happens that only your table has empty seats. Would you mind letting them share the table?"

Zhao Changhe remarked, "San Niang's business is truly thriving."

San Niang smiled. "The location is excellent, you see. Foreign travelers arrive at the market covered in dust from the road, and the moment they spy the wine flag, aren't they all swallowing their saliva?"

Zhao Changhe nodded. The location was indeed excellent; was that not precisely how he had ended up here? "Speaking of which, if I am unwilling to share the table, would San Niang drive me out, or drive them out?"

San Niang sighed, offering a gentle counsel, "When away from home, why be so reclusive? An extra friend means an extra path."

The two men, listening to the exchange, seemed to grow impatient. They took up positions to the left and right of Zhao Changhe. "Brother, we are all travelers from the Central Plains. Isn't this a bit much?"

Now they considered themselves men of the Central Plains? When you were selling grain to the barbarians during wartime, why didn't you mention being from the Central Plains?

Zhao Changhe knew perfectly well that by engaging in false pleasantries and chatting with them idly, he might extract a good deal of information. Yet, no matter how he looked at them, a deep aversion rose within his heart. He simply could not bring himself to feign compliance, and so he stated coldly, "It is one thing for San Niang to negotiate this matter with me, and out of respect for her, it would not be impossible for me to yield. The negotiation is not even concluded, so since when is it your turn to open your mouths, hurl accusations, and claim I am being too much? Well, now it is settled. This old chap will not share the table. You may share with whomever else you please."

"Refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit!" The youth's eyes flashed with ferocity, and he suddenly swung a palm to strike.

Every patron in the room perked up once more; the Yellow Sand Market never lacked for drama, offering a different show every day.

With a sharp crack, though it was clearly the youth who had initiated the violence, what everyone witnessed was his own face receiving a resounding slap. The young man spun on the spot like a top for several rotations before coming to a halt, whereupon he clutched his mouth and spat something out. He opened his hand to look: it was a bloody tooth.

The crowd had actually failed to perceive exactly how Zhao Changhe had delivered that counter-slap!

San Niang scrutinized Zhao Changhe with immense interest, her thoughts turning deep.

The middle-aged man flew into a violent rage. "What audacity!"

The sound of a drawing blade rang clear as a sword thrust straight toward the center of Zhao Changhe's back.

Zhao Changhe continued to consume his lamb leg and drink his wine. With an indefinable twist of his torso, the sword slipped harmlessly beneath his ribs. Then, with a casual squeeze, he easily trapped the opponent's arm beneath his armpit. A sickening crunch echoed through the hall as the man's wrist was snapped cleanly by the sheer pressure, his agonized shriek reverberating through the room.

The onlookers sucked in a cold breath, the regard in their eyes shifting completely as they looked upon Zhao Changhe.

This man's martial arts were one matter, but this physical strength was somewhat absurd. What manner of concept was it to break a man's arm simply by pinning it under an armpit?

Someone instinctively mimicked the clamping motion with their own arm, shook their head, and felt that they could never achieve such a feat under any circumstances. What sort of divine strength was this?

Zhao Changhe released his hold on the man and remarked indifferently, "Such trash, yet they dare provoke me..."

The two men stared at Zhao Changhe in a mixture of shock and terror. They retreated out the door in a swift flurry, leaving behind a harsh threat, "Just you wait!"

Zhao Changhe gripped a pair of chopsticks, intending to strike them dead, but upon further thought, he laid them back down. These two were likely the leaders of the caravan; there might still be a need for evidence or similar matters later on, so it was not yet the time to kill them. Furthermore, if he provoked a retaliatory attack from a thousand men, his objectives here would be impossible to carry out.

With this in mind, Zhao Changhe turned his head toward San Niang, who was watching the spectacle with glittering eyes, and inquired flatly, "San Niang, they raised their hands against your guest, yet you say nothing? Is it because their coin outmeasures mine, or is it because San Niang simply does not protect her guests?"

As if awakening from a dream, San Niang laughed, "Oh my, brawls and squabbles are commonplace within the tavern. I failed to realize the nature of the situation for a moment; young master, pray forgive me this once."

Zhao Changhe countered, "So if they gather people to seek revenge, will San Niang protect her lodgers?"

San Niang replied with a beaming smile, "The interior of the inn is a safe zone. No matter who it is, none shall lay a finger on this old lady's guests. Once you step outside, I bear no responsibility."

Why didn't you claim it was a safe zone just a moment ago? Zhao Changhe remained noncommittal. "That will suffice... Speaking of which, does San Niang know them?"

San Niang laughed, "What? Do you intend to strike first, taking revenge and pulling them up by the roots?"

"Is it forbidden?"

"Then I advise you to exercise some caution. They have a great many men..."

"So, who are they?"

"Master Qiao the Second of the Qiao Family from central Shanxi. As for that youth, I expect it is his first time venturing out; I do not recognize him."

So they are indeed Shanxi merchants... Zhao Changhe's thoughts spun through a vast circuit, but he could recall no member of this Qiao family listed upon the Chaos Ranking, so he asked, "What manner of business do they conduct, and who remains in their household? Is San Niang familiar with them?"

A profound meaning seemed to reside within San Niang's gaze. "The information exists, but it will cost extra."