Chapter 26 – The Opera Troupe
Huang Mingyou lifted his head, hastily swallowed a mouthful of noodles, and asked, “Eh, eh—what’s going on there?”
Bai Mingyu quietly tugged at Xie Jing’s sleeve, pleading for mercy.
Xie Jing sat back down and said nothing.
When Mr. Huang finished eating, he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and went to inspect their work. “When studying,” he scolded, “you must maintain a calm mind. Especially in the examination room—you must always keep quiet, do you understand? No small movements between the two of you!”
Bai Mingyu muttered under his breath, “Yet you went to see an opera and eat lamb hotpot last night…”
Mr. Huang turned back sharply. “What did you say? Speak up!”
Bai Mingyu grunted twice, not daring to repeat himself, and bent his head over the paper again.
Huang Mingyou stood behind them, one man supervising two students without any pressure. In contrast, the young master sitting in front squirmed as though little ants were crawling all over him. When the proctor behind him gave a loud snort through his nose, Bai Mingyu finally behaved a little better, slowly scratching out his answers.
Xie Jing finished writing quickly. He rose, brought his paper forward, and respectfully placed it on the corner of Mr. Huang’s desk. “Sir, I have completed the exam.” Then he added softly, “May I leave early? Lord Bai Jiu is returning from Heihe at noon. I’d like to go tidy up the study and burn some incense.”
While invigilating, Huang Mingyou had already read through most of their work. Xie Jing’s answers were particularly good—meticulous and well-organized, far better than the rascal sitting next to him. Smiling, Huang waved a hand. “Go on, but take your time. Be sure to return for class this afternoon.”
Xie Jing bowed and left.
He shut the office door behind him. Before his hand even left the doorknob, he heard the sound of the teacher inside scolding Bai Mingyu. His lips lifted slightly.
It seemed Second Young Master Bai would never again be the mighty, awe-inspiring “Manager Bai” he once was.
Still, compared to that cold, humorless shopkeeper of the past, Xie Jing much preferred this version of him.
Silly, perhaps—but genuine. A good person.
Back at the East Courtyard, Xie Jing cleaned and arranged the study. Just as he lit a stick of incense, Lord Bai Jiu returned.
The machines at the Heihe distillery were almost fully installed and would begin operation within two months. Not only the Bai family but also many local gentry and wealthy clans were watching closely. Nowadays everyone had heard of machines, but few had seen them. A fully mechanized distillery was rare—not just in Heihe, but across the entire northern provinces.
Lord Bai Jiu seemed in good spirits today. After changing into his casual home clothes, Xie Jing asked, “Master, you’re not going out today?”
“No. No visitors—stolen half a day’s leisure.” He let Xie Jing adjust the folds of his robe, smiling faintly. “And you? How was the clan academy? Did you enjoy it?”
Xie Jing answered honestly, “The academy is much larger than my former school. Mr. Huang’s lectures are excellent. He asked me to return this afternoon.”
Lord Bai Jiu nodded approvingly. “Indeed, his classes are worth attending.”
Someone brought in a basket of fresh fruits—among them several dark-red mountain berries. The master wiped his hands, tasted one, and, finding it sweet, offered another to Xie Jing. “Quite good. Take them.”
The servant handed the whole small basket to Xie Jing. They were already used to such scenes—when Lord Bai Jiu found something tasty, he would always share it with his little “Little Xie,” feeding him like a young fledgling bird.
Xie Jing held the basket, walking quietly behind his master, speaking softly as they went.
“The distillery work is busy. I’ll need to remain here for some time,” Lord Bai Jiu said, glancing at him. “If you like, you could stay at the clan academy to study with the others.”
“I’m not like them,” Xie Jing replied calmly.
Lord Bai Jiu nodded. “It’s true—I’ve put you in a difficult position.”
The servant who had just set a patterned watermelon on the table nearly dropped it at those words. He glanced fearfully from Xie Jing to Lord Bai Jiu. But Xie Jing stood straight, expression serious and composed as usual.
Lord Bai Jiu lowered his head, leafing through a set of schematics. He sounded casual, almost conversational. “The daytime lectures there aren’t crucial. Why not come with me to Heihe? If there’s anything you don’t understand, I’ll teach you at the distillery myself. You can attend Mr. Huang’s evening lessons when we return.”
“Yes, sir.”
Their conversation soon turned technical—matters beyond the servant’s comprehension. He quietly backed out, closing the door, the strangeness in his heart fading.
After all, he’d seen enough to start getting used to it.
If there was anything unusual about Xie Jing, it was that he never seemed to think himself lesser. And Lord Bai Jiu truly trusted him.
While others scrambled to guess what might please the master, Xie Jing always responded naturally—saying exactly what the master wanted to hear. It was as if they shared a private code, speaking in words only the two of them could understand.
*
The next day.
Xie Jing accompanied Lord Bai Jiu to Heihe. Two German engineers were there to calibrate the distillery’s machinery, and the place had been bustling for days.
Lord Bai Jiu hoped to cultivate capable men around him. He had brought many from the provincial capital and selected a few clever ones from the Bai family in Qinghe, expecting to find some promising talent among them. But to his surprise, the first to stand out was Xie Jing.
He was like a blank sheet of paper—and also like a sponge. Wherever he was placed, he absorbed everything around him and grew faster than anyone else.
At first, Lord Bai Jiu had to guide him personally. But soon, he could trust Xie Jing to handle matters on his own.
The boy was diligent and dependable—his youthful agility fused with a composure beyond his years. Combined with that unspoken rapport between them, it often made Lord Bai Jiu pause to look at him again.
The youth bent over the distillation apparatus, adjusting it carefully alongside the engineers. His black hair fell across his brow, and when he raised his hand to wipe away sweat, his dark eyes gleamed with concentration. When he spoke to the German engineers, he could already use several foreign technical terms with ease.
Xie Jing’s progress exceeded every expectation.
A few days later, Xie Jing was granted a day’s leave to visit his hometown in Qinghe County.
Since there was a full rotation of guards and supervisors at the distillery, and both Zhang Huwei and the provincial staff were present, Lord Bai Jiu had no security concerns. Xie Jing left at ease.
He rode back with several others who were also on leave. They were all men from the provincial capital with no families nearby, so they stopped to stay in the East Courtyard. Xie Jing didn’t stay—he rode straight home.
But when he arrived, the gate was locked, and the east wing stood empty.
After tying up his horse and feeding it some grass, he grabbed a handful of beans to add to its trough—only to hear the courtyard gate creak open. Looking up, he saw Grandma Kou. Her face lit with joy and relief as she hurried over.
“Jing’er, you’re back at last! I went to find you yesterday noon, and again this morning. If you hadn’t returned today, I’d have sent people to Heihe to look for you…”
“Slow down, Grandma. What happened?”
“Li Yuan’s gone missing!”
Xie Jing froze, the beans slipping between his fingers. He frowned. “Missing? Since when? Did you ask the East Courtyard guards for help?”
“I did! The same two young men who used to dine with us—they helped me search all yesterday. We’ve scoured the entire Qinghe County, and he’s vanished into thin air! He didn’t take any money, either—the silver in the chest, the copper coins in the box—everything’s still there. Oh, it’s driving me mad! If he’d run away with some money, I could understand, but how can someone just disappear like that?”
Xie Jing thought for a moment. “I know where he is. Grandma, go home first—I’ll find him.”
He untied his horse and mounted. From the saddle, he instructed gently, “Stay at home for the next few days. Don’t go anywhere. Mr. Huang is living in this courtyard now, and Lord Bai Jiu’s guards will be keeping an eye out nearby. I’ll have food sent over. Just wait for me at home.”
Grandma Kou’s heart thudded. She took two steps forward and called after him, “Jing’er, where are you going to look?”
“I’ll stop by the East Courtyard first. Don’t worry—I have an idea.”
Xie Jing went to the East Courtyard to find Zhang Huwei’s men.
Back during the bandit attack in Heihe, he had fought side by side with them, forming a life-and-death bond. His relationship with Zhang Huwei remained close. And though Xie Jing was favored by Lord Bai Jiu, he had no arrogance about him—he treated everyone with courtesy and care. So when he said he needed help, several off-duty guards immediately volunteered to accompany him.
He chose two or three of them, changed clothes, and rode together toward the eastern suburbs.
The eastern outskirts were poor—but far from deserted. On the contrary, the riverside docks were bustling with laborers unloading cargo. The place was noisy, chaotic, teeming with people from all walks of life.
Having lived there for years, Xie Jing knew the area well. Riding in was just for show.
He brought his men to an opera troupe.
The troupe leader, Master Cheng, wore a half-old silk robe, two buttons undone against the rising heat. One foot was propped on a grand chair, the other flattened the back of a cloth shoe, exposing most of his bare heel. He barked orders at the half-grown boys practicing nearby, turning two walnuts in his hand. On the Eight Immortals table beside him lay a bamboo whip, polished smooth from years of use.
When Xie Jing arrived, Master Cheng slowly straightened up—though his hunched back never fully unbent. “Well, well,” he chuckled hoarsely. “If it isn’t Little Xie—come home in glory, eh? Come, come, sit and talk! I’ve been thinking of you. How’s your grandma’s health? No more coughing, I hope?”
“No need for your concern,” Xie Jing replied coolly. “I’m here to redeem someone.”
“Oh? Who?”
“Little Lizi—Li Yuan.”
Master Cheng took a long drag from his pipe, exhaled slowly, and smiled as before. “He’s one of ours. Years ago, his parents sold him to me fair and square—black ink on white paper, all proper. Didn’t expect the ungrateful brat to sneak off, though. I’ve been looking for him for quite some time…”
He watched Xie Jing’s expression—seeing no change, he continued, his tone shifting. “Since you’ve come, I won’t mince words. The boy’s indeed here. But this troupe raised him all these years, and now that he’s finally trained and ready for the stage, you want to buy back a grown man. That’s not worth the same as a half bag of grain like before.”
Xie Jing nodded calmly. “Every trade has its price. Name it.”
Master Cheng lifted his eyelids lazily. “Thirty silver.”
Xie Jing counted them out of the white cloth pouch and placed them on the table before him.
The walnuts turned once more in Cheng’s hand. Just as Xie Jing set the money down, he said, “The price’s gone up. Three hundred.”
Xie Jing’s hand paused. He reached inside his robe for more notes, but before he could see the denomination, the old man barked again, “Now it’s gone up again—three thousand silver.”
Xie Jing looked at him.
Master Cheng met his gaze, grinning—his smile not reaching his eyes. He’d never intended to make the deal at all.
