Chapter Forty-Five: Gao Yao Is a Fool

The entire county office of Sanjiang was filled with the rich aroma of Yangchun noodles. Everyone present held a steaming bowl of this delicacy in their hands. By now, the noodles had been out of the pot for a while, the temperature just right, and the broth had permeated the noodles to perfection. As the locals, the people of Sanjiang County were all too aware of the exquisite quality of the Zhou family’s Yangchun noodles.

On any other day, they would have devoured every last drop without a second thought. But only yesterday, they had eaten these same noodles, and the memory alone now made them feel queasy.

Jiang Pingchuan, seeing that everyone was merely holding their bowls without touching their chopsticks, walked over to Xiao Wu, took a bowl of noodles, and placed it before the county magistrate.

“Fellow townsmen, there’s no need to worry. If you’re afraid your mouths will suffer an injustice, let’s have the county magistrate speak for us. Let’s see if this is truly noodles or something else entirely.”

Jiang Pingchuan placed a pair of chopsticks in front of the magistrate, casting a sharp glare at the young legal adviser seated beside him.

The young adviser raised his eyebrows at Jiang Pingchuan’s words. He had long known that Jiang was not an easy man to deal with, but now he realized his sources had been mistaken. Jiang wasn’t just formidable—he was ruthless, far more so than himself. While he might kill a man outright, Jiang was the kind who would destroy a man’s body and soul.

The magistrate looked at the bowl before him, his hand gripping the chopsticks, but he did not move. His cloudy old eyes glimmered with moisture, and his withered throat bobbed up and down. The way he held the chopsticks was awkward, like a child who had yet to master their use. Jiang guessed that ever since this young adviser had arrived in Sanjiang, the magistrate likely hadn’t eaten a proper meal. He probably feasted on the flesh of the dead day in and day out. Jiang had already told Zhou Fu and the others that someone had set up a corpse-raising ground in the county. Now it seemed the place was close by, and the magistrate, sick of eating human flesh, had forgotten how to eat ordinary food like Yangchun noodles.

“My dear Magistrate Gao, you really pain my heart. Enough. Don’t tremble with those chopsticks any longer. Come, let me feed you myself.”

Jiang Pingchuan, seeing that the magistrate couldn’t manage on his own, took the chopsticks from his hands, lifted a mouthful of noodles, and brought it to the magistrate’s lips.

Strangely, though the magistrate was well into his years, his face bore none of the lines of age, yet his movements were as feeble as a dying man. Trembling, the magistrate slowly ate the noodles Jiang offered, and everyone present felt a premonition: surely the magistrate would erupt in anger and spit out the food. But what happened next left everyone utterly baffled.

After swallowing, the magistrate buzzed something from his mouth, stretched out his trembling finger, pointed at the noodles and then at his mouth.

Jiang Pingchuan nodded and began feeding him more, one mouthful at a time. All those present witnessed the scene.

Seeing that the magistrate had not become angry but was instead gesturing for more, the crowd hesitated. Jiang, watching their reluctance, found himself at a loss for words—these people were really too hesitant.

“Ahem… Good… Delicious… What wonderful noodles…”

Just as Jiang Pingchuan was considering having Manager Zhou’s entire family eat in front of everyone to prove there was nothing wrong with today’s noodles, the magistrate spoke at last.

His throat was so hoarse it seemed he had not spoken in ages. With trembling voice and tears in his eyes, he pointed to the noodles in Jiang’s hand.

Zhou Ning’er was delighted to see the magistrate moved to tears by the noodles, though she thought he was being a bit dramatic, almost as if Jiang Pingchuan had planted him there.

As the magistrate’s difficult words fell from his lips, the crowd no longer hesitated. They lifted their chopsticks, eyeing the noodles as their rich fragrance wafted through the air, oil glistening on their smooth surfaces. With a determined bite, they all took their first mouthful. As the taste spread in their mouths, the tension in their brows melted away.

“Slurp… slurp…”

“Mmm… Delicious…”

“No wonder it’s a century-old shop…”

“Another bowl, I’ll pay…”

The entire county office was filled with the sounds of slurping, exclamations, and praise. Jiang Pingchuan watched as the magistrate called Xiao Wu over to continue feeding him.

Xiao Wu hurried over and took the bowl from Jiang, feeding the magistrate one bite after another—a rare honor he gladly accepted.

Seeing the Zhou family’s faces wreathed in smiles, Zhou Ning’er beamed at Jiang and offered him her noodles, but Jiang shook his head and walked over to the adviser. The adviser sat motionless, and Jiang, grinning, gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder.

“Ah… I…”

“Enough with that. Eat your noodles. There are things I don’t wish to pursue, so don’t take them to heart either.”

Jiang handed the bowl and chopsticks to the young adviser, who, seeing Jiang’s earnest face, nodded though he was secretly sneering. Youth, he thought, is so naïve—thinking a bowl of noodles could make peace between them. What nonsense.

“You and I are not exactly strangers to conflict,” the young adviser said, accepting the bowl, glancing at Jiang, and echoing his seriousness before lifting a generous mouthful of noodles.

The moment he bit in, a powerful stench flooded his senses, and his mind went blank. Dizziness overcame him, and all he could see was Jiang’s triumphant laughter. The adviser dropped the bowl, which shattered with a sharp crack, drawing everyone’s attention.

“What are you doing, Adviser? Are you trying to ruin the mood? Everyone else is enjoying their noodles, but you can’t stomach them? Are you deliberately making trouble for Manager Zhou?” Jiang asked sharply.

The adviser was startled. He really had meant to make things difficult for Zhou Fu, but he couldn’t admit it now. He finally understood that he was the fool here—Jiang had never intended to let him off the hook.

“Jiang Pingchuan, stop talking nonsense. I have no past grievances with Manager Zhou. What are you implying?”

The young adviser gripped the armrests of his chair, careful not to sit fully, always keeping one side of his body raised in case the dried blood glued him to the bench.

“Oh? You may not have a feud with Manager Zhou, but you covet Zhou Ning’er’s beauty. Using your position as adviser, pretending to scheme on Young Master Gao’s behalf, you were really trying to use him to achieve your own ends. Don’t look at me like that. Can you deny it?”

Jiang Pingchuan, noticing several people entering from the back of the crowd, spun around and unleashed a barrage of accusations at the adviser. The crowd stared, dumbfounded.

Zhou Ning’er, standing by Jiang’s side, could make no sense of him at all.

Jiang caught Zhou Ning’er’s confused look and raised his brows, stealing a quick glance to reassure her. Zhou Ning’er almost pinched his waist in retaliation but decided against it—she didn’t want to embarrass him in front of everyone.

“Jiang Pingchuan, you’re spouting nonsense! I… Damn you, you’ve gone too far!”

The adviser’s eyes blazed as he glared at Jiang. He could still feel the remnants of Jiang’s energy battling his own inside him, leaving him unable to heal himself and forced to watch Jiang toy with him.

“What? You say I’m talking nonsense? Isn’t it you who thinks Young Master Gao is a fool? If he weren’t a fool, would you cooperate with him? You’re only working with him because you think he’s an idiot, aren’t you, Adviser?”

Jiang pointed at the adviser’s nose, rattling off a convoluted barrage that left the crowd somewhat confused, but one thing was clear: Jiang accused the adviser of calling Young Master Gao a fool.

The young adviser stared at Jiang, dumbstruck. He hadn’t even processed Jiang’s rapid words, but seeing Jiang’s self-satisfied expression, his anger boiled over and he slammed the armrest.

“Nonsense…!”

“Then say something that isn’t nonsense. Go on, say it. Speak!”

“I say Young Master Gao is a fool!”

Silence.

The adviser clapped his hand over his mouth, staring at the suddenly quiet hall.

He glanced at the smiling Zhou Ning’er and Jiang Pingchuan, at the magistrate whose eyes brimmed with meaning, and at Gao Yao, who stood in the doorway with a thunderous expression.

It was over. He’d been tricked by Jiang Pingchuan yet again.