Chapter 30 Turks She didn't pay much attention, and called out loudly, "Buddy,..."
Under the blazing sun, the majestic Vermilion Bird Gate resembled a gigantic beast's mouth, swallowing and spitting out the flow of people coming and going. Inside the city gate, on the left and right sides, there was a long wooden table, behind which sat two clerks dressed in black robes and wearing square headscarves, with thick books, inkpad boxes, and pen holders piled up in front of them.
Xiao Qiyu returned from his patrol, and the soldiers behind him dismounted, eager to collect their daily bowl of mung bean soup. Only he remained seated on his horse, motionless, slowly surveying the neatly arranged queue with a calm gaze.
"Place of origin? Age? What is your purpose in coming to Beijing?"
The clerk didn't even bother to lift his eyelids, his voice was as flat as a block of wood, and his questions were always the same.
It was an elderly man with gray hair, carrying a bamboo basket on his back containing two plump old hens that were clucking restlessly.
The old man respectfully handed over the introductory document, bowing and scraping as he said, "Your Honor, I am a man from Shandong, sixty-two years old this year, and I have come to the capital to visit my pregnant daughter."
The clerk carefully examined the register, compared the names, ages, and appearances, and also checked the items carried. Then he stamped the register with a red seal and said in a deep voice, "Pass."
The old man thanked him profusely and withdrew, disappearing into the hustle and bustle of the city.
One person moved forward in the long line, and it was a young and strong man's turn.
The man was probably visiting the capital for the first time; his face was tense, his eyes were unfocused, and he stammered when questioned, sweat beading on his forehead. The soldiers even found a boning knife used for slaughtering cattle and sheep on his person.
The clerk's gaze instantly sharpened like an eagle's, and he bombarded him with questions: "What do you do for a living? What is this thing used for? What is your purpose in coming to the capital? Do you have any relatives or friends here?"
The man was completely bewildered by the question, shaking his head and saying he knew nothing. When the soldier took the knife away, he foolishly tried to grab it back.
"Seize this man!" the clerk shouted.
Soldiers swarmed forward, grabbing the man's arms from both sides and taking him to the government office for a body search. The commotion caused an uproar in the long queue, with the people in line whispering and discussing amongst themselves.
In the crowd, only one person remained silent.
The man was a young man, around thirty years old, wearing a common short brown blouse. He had a rough, dark complexion and bright, sharp eyes. His appearance was unremarkable, like a stone sinking into the sea.
The only noteworthy thing is that, in such sweltering weather, this person was wearing a heavy felt hat on his head, which made one feel hot just looking at him.
He stood quietly in the queue, neither talking nor looking around, his bright eyes fixed on the face of the clerk questioning him, as if trying to find some foolproof pattern in the monotonous questions and answers.
"Next."
The line moved forward slowly.
The clerk glanced up at the man in the felt hat and asked routinely, "Place of origin? Age? What brings you to the capital?"
The man presented the travel permit with both hands, his expression respectful, his accent so thick it was almost indistinct: "I am from northern Jiangsu, thirty-two years old, and I have come to Beijing to work."
"Your accent doesn't sound like someone from northern Jiangsu." The clerk frowned, looking him over suspiciously.
"Your Honor, I have a stutter since I was a child." The man lowered his eyes, his voice even softer.
The clerk said nothing more, but gave a wink to the soldier beside him.
The soldier stepped forward and quickly searched the man's body, but found nothing unusual.
The clerk scrutinized the man again, and seeing that he looked honest and simple, pressed the red stamp on the travel pass with a "thud" and said in a muffled voice, "Pass."
The man's eyes lit up instantly, and he was about to reach out to take the road sign when a series of crisp, rapid hoofbeats suddenly approached.
Xiao Qiyu had already ridden up to the man at some point, his sharp gaze fixed on the incongruous felt hat on the man's head. His voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable authority: "Take off your hat."
The man's body tensed instantly. He opened his mouth, his throat bobbing as if he wanted to explain, but in the end he could only squeeze out a dry sentence: "Sir, I... I have sores on my head. If I take off my hat, I'm afraid... I'm afraid it will offend your eyes."
“I am not afraid of filth.” Xiao Qiyu’s tone was icy. “Take it off.”
"This is."
The man raised his hand again, his movements as slow as if it were made of lead. His hand finally landed shakily on the hat on his head. In the unseen shadows, his once submissive eyes suddenly revealed murderous intent, and his hunched back resembled a slumbering bow, as if it might unleash a poisoned arrow at any moment.
Just then, a soldier came running breathlessly to Xiao Qiyu's horse and said urgently, "Reporting to the captain! The kid we just took to search us suddenly went berserk, injured two brothers, and ran away!"
Xiao Qiyu's eyes flashed with a sharp light, and he immediately turned his horse around and headed towards the government office.
As soon as he left, the man's tense shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, and his hand, which had taken off his hat, fell smoothly to catch the travel permit stamped with a red seal. He mumbled a few awkward auspicious words incoherently.
The clerk was already irritable from the heat, and with Captain Xiao by his side, he had barely managed to stay alert. But now that the man was gone, his energy completely dissipated. He waved for the man to leave and called out weakly, "Next."
...
Along Zhuque Street, the sounds of vendors hawking their wares rose and fell, and the rising steam carried the aromas of oil, noodles, and meat.
"Braised pork belly! Braised pork belly with a perfect balance of fat and lean meat!"
"Flatbread! Delicious layered puff pastry, even more fragrant than meat!"
"Freshly steamed beef buns! Thin skin, fragrant filling, three copper coins each, all you can eat!"
The sounds of diners chewing their food with gusto and the loud shouts of vendors mingled in the bustling street.
A man wearing a felt hat walked through the crowd, his eyes greedily scanning the steaming bamboo steamers and the oily food in the hands of passersby.
His chapped lips licked unconsciously, his throat bobbed rapidly as he swallowed non-existent saliva, and his stomach rumbled with hunger.
When he saw the plump, steaming beef buns just unfurled from the steamer, his feet seemed to be nailed to the ground. He stood rooted to the spot in front of the stall, his eyes fixed on the steaming, fragrant buns, like a hungry wolf eyeing its prey.
The stall owner put on a smile and greeted, "Have one, sir! Only three copper coins!"
The man simply stood there, neither taking out money nor responding.
The stall owner noticed his predicament, his smile quickly vanished, and he impatiently waved him away: "Go away! If you don't have money, don't stand here in the way, blocking my business!"
Before he could finish speaking, a fierce glint flashed in the man's eyes. He suddenly lunged forward, grabbed two piping hot buns, and turned to flee!
"Thief! Stealing steamed buns in broad daylight!" The stall owner shouted in shock and anger.
The pedestrians on the street immediately became united in their hatred and kept chasing the man. Those walking in front, hearing the shouts, also joined in the effort to catch the "thief," rolling up their sleeves to surround and corner him.
In the chaos, someone with quick reflexes threw a punch at the "thief's" head. Although the punch missed, it knocked the thief's felt hat off.
Under the bright sunlight, a bald head was exposed to everyone's view, with a ring of messy hair hanging like a straw curtain under the bald head.
"A Turk! He's a Turk!"
With a cry of alarm, the street erupted in chaos. Women clutched their children and ran home in terror, while the elderly huddled in the alleys, too afraid to come out. Young and strong men raised their shovels and spearheads, ready to fight the Turks to the death.
The Turks wolfed down two piping hot beef buns, looked up at the chaos before them, and as if waking from a dream, hurriedly tried to flee this place of trouble.
He picked up a gleaming butcher's knife from the pig butcher's stall, and anyone who dared to block his way would be hacked down. In no time, corpses littered the ground, the blade covered in beads of blood.
The blood trickled down the street before disappearing at the end of the alley.
...
Roast goose shop.
Cui Ying rubbed her aching stomach, frowned, and strolled from the back room back to the front hall, muttering to herself, "Strange, why is she suddenly having an upset stomach? Could it be that she's been eating too much fine food at the Marquis's residence and spoiled her stomach?"
She didn't pay much attention and called out, "Hey buddy, is the roast goose ready yet?"
He called out twice, but there was no response.
A hint of doubt flashed through Cui Ying's mind. She reached out and lifted the blue curtain that separated the inside from the outside, and the sight before her made her pause in surprise—
The room, which had been packed with diners just moments before, suddenly vanished completely. Not only the diners, but also the cashiers, the waiters, and even the chef roasting the goose in the kitchen—everyone was gone.
The only thing left was a cloth shoe that someone had left behind on the ground.
Cui Ying's brows furrowed so deeply they could trap a mosquito, and she thought to herself: Is this some kind of ghost? Where have all the people gone?
She looked up at the roof beams; they were perfectly stable and didn't seem to indicate an earthquake.
Cui Ying composed herself and walked towards the kitchen. There, on the cutting board, lay a freshly roasted goose, its glistening skin sizzling in the residual heat of the oven, emitting an enticing aroma. Cui Ying gently pressed it with her fingertip; the skin crackled softly, and rich goose fat instantly seeped out.
"I'm actually lucky."
Cui Ying was immediately delighted. He picked up a bright green lotus leaf, then skillfully threaded a straw rope through the goose's beak, intending to put the money on the counter later and take the goose with him.
Just then, the shopkeeper's big yellow dog suddenly appeared out of nowhere, wagging its tail incessantly and rubbing affectionately against Cui Ying's legs. The wet dog stared longingly at the roast goose in her hand, drool dripping from the corner of its mouth.
Cui Ying glanced helplessly at the greedy dog: "Big Yellow, this is just a gift today, I can't give you the goose butt."
In the past, every time she came to eat roast goose, she would ask the chef to chop off the goose's butt and leave it for Dahuang. Over time, this greedy dog developed a habit of wagging its tail and begging for goose butt whenever it saw Cui Ying.
Seeing that Cui Ying wouldn't give it to him, Da Huang just thought she was teasing him. He wagged his tail even more vigorously, stared intently at the roast goose in her hand, his mouth practically drooling, his eyes filled with "I don't believe it."
Cui Ying sighed and softened her voice: "I really didn't lie to you. Next time I come to buy, I'll definitely make sure to get you two goose butts, okay?"
Big Yellow's face fell instantly, its tail drooped, and it let out a mournful howl, its voice pitiful and desolate, as if it had suffered a great injustice.
Cui Ying was driven to the point of exasperation by this scoundrel and just wanted to make a quick getaway.
She was carrying the goose and was about to step out of the kitchen curtain and into the front hall when she suddenly heard a loud crash from the front hall, as if the door had been violently slammed open.
Immediately afterwards, a series of heavy, disordered footsteps, accompanied by heavy breathing, stumbled in.
Cui Ying was about to walk straight out, but upon hearing the noise, she inexplicably stopped and peeked out from the food delivery window in the back kitchen.
Blood splattered, and a stench filled the air.
The man was covered in blood, and in his hand was a gleaming butcher's knife. The blade seemed to be chipped, and blood flowed down the blade, dripping onto the rough wooden floor with a soft "patter".
At the same time, a voice came from outside the door: "There's blood around here! That Turkic bastard can't have gone far! Everyone, search quickly!"
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Author's Note: Meibao: QAQ
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