The journey had been long, and the detour to avoid the bandit army had cost them a rest stop in Heyang County. Hong Chengchou was both weary and famished.
Yet, seated on his horse, his posture remained immaculate, his robes without a single wrinkle, his expression betraying no trace of fatigue. He held himself straight, dignified, and unflappable—a mountain of composure.
Passing through Zheng Family Village, he had been quietly surprised. The area around the village seemed to have received rain recently, with lush green grass and vibrant trees. The fields appeared freshly harvested, wheat stubble still standing.
The village even had a large pond full of clear water.
It was puzzling.
But water was always welcome. Hong Chengchou ordered his men to fetch a basin of clean water. He took out a comb, tidied his hair, washed his face, and refreshed himself. Hong Chengchou could not afford to appear disheveled. Composure must be maintained at all times.
Reaching the western edge of Zheng Family Village, he saw something even more bewildering: a strange, smooth gray "stone road" running parallel to the official dirt path.
Out of caution, he did not venture onto the strange road, ordering his men to stay on the official track. They traveled another six li, and Gao Village came into view.
"What village lies ahead? Report," he commanded.
A scout from his private retinue hurried forward. "Sir, that should be Gao Village. I passed through this area two years ago. It was a small, desolate hamlet then. I don't know why, but it appears to have grown into a large town."
Hong Chengchou furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "With the great drought and the roaming bandits these past years, commoners have been forced to flee everywhere. This area clearly has access to water for crops and wild greens. Refugees gathering here to form a larger settlement is understandable. Do not act startled like a country bumpkin who has never seen the world. Remember the Hong family precept: composure. Maintain your composure at all times, lest you become a laughingstock."
The scout quickly schooled his expression.
"Since there is a sizable town, we can stop and rest for a while," Hong Chengchou declared. "Proceed."
The Hong family retainers escorted the grain convoy slowly into Gao Village.
Shi Jian, a sentry from the Gao Village militia, spotted the procession from afar and rushed back to report. Cheng Xu immediately retreated into the shadows, taking a backseat. It fell to San Shier, accompanied by Gao Yiye and a few other literate men, to go out and meet them.
A fourth-rank imperial official was not to be taken lightly.
Li Daoxuan's focus intensified entirely. Hong Chengchou—a name he knew all too well. If he willed it now, his "Thanos Gauntlet" could descend and squash the man who would become the foremost traitor in the Biographies of Twice-Serving Officials.
But…
Would that be right?
Hong Chengchou's surrender was over a decade in the future. It hadn't happened yet.
Could one condemn a man for a deed not yet committed?
It seemed… improper.
Even in those foreign superhero tales, when a certain "merc with a mouth" traveled back to before the great war and saw a certain infamous figure as a baby, he didn't kill him.
For events that haven't happened, the best way to prevent them is not to give a person the chance to face that particular trial.
Li Daoxuan sighed softly. Hong Chengchou. Perhaps… this time, with me here, you won't be driven to lose everything. I'll spare you for now.
The Hong party, maintaining their impeccable composure, entered Gao Village.
Every Hong family retainer stood tall, proud, and vigilant, their eyes fixed forward. Hong Chengchou himself was the picture of dignified poise.
However, while he appeared to look straight ahead, his eyes were darting keenly, taking in every detail of Gao Village.
A fortress with walls three zhang high. The local gentry here possessed significant power, far beyond ordinary wealthy households.
Harvested wheat fields, a bustling market of many colors…
Strange, enormous carts???
The moment his eyes landed on the massive miniature train, Hong Chengchou nearly lost his composure, his face almost betraying a bumpkin's astonishment. He forcefully controlled his facial muscles, preventing even the slightest twitch.
Do not panic. Composure! It must be some Western trick. Those barbarians from across the seas love these bizarre-looking contraptions. If I show surprise, I will become a joke to those foreign savages.
At that moment, San Shier stepped forward. "This humble one is the steward of the Li Family of Gao Village, San Shier. We were not prepared to receive you; we beg your forgiveness."
Hong Chengchou did not speak. A retainer spoke for him. "Our master is Hong Chengchou, Superintendent of Grain Transport for Shaanxi. He is responsible for escorting imperial grain supplies. Passing through this area, he intends to lodge here for the night."
This was not unusual. For a high-ranking official on imperial business to seek lodging at a local magnate's estate was a common practice. The host family would typically offer generous hospitality and send them off with respect—a gesture of savvy and a hope to forge a favorable connection.
Who knew when such an official might return the favor one day?
San Shier, of course, understood this unspoken rule. He smiled. "We are deeply honored by Superintendent Hong's presence. I will arrange accommodations immediately."
Just then, Gao Yiye leaned close to San Shier's ear and whispered, "The Tianzun orders: invite Hong Chengchou to join the Hotpot Festival. Let's have some fun with him."
San Shier didn't miss a beat, his polite smile unwavering. "Ah, I should mention, our village is currently holding the 'Tianzun's Hotpot Festival.' While you wait, Superintendent Hong, perhaps you would care to take a look?"
A slow question mark seemed to form above Hong Chengchou's head. "The Tianzun's… Hotpot Festival?"
San Shier gestured toward the pond. Hong Chengchou's gaze followed, landing on the open space by the water's edge. Hundreds of large pots bubbled over fires, their boiling broths already looking enticing. Numerous long tables were laden with a bewildering variety of ingredients.
There was meat, vegetables, things from the sea, from the land, from the air…
In the midst of a great drought, this village had such an extravagant variety of food?
Was this some kind of joke?
Hong Chengchou's attention was instantly, irrevocably captured.
San Shier continued smoothly, "The soldiers and laborers escorting the grain must be tired and hungry. Why not join the festival? There is meat and vegetables aplenty. They can eat their fill."
Hong Chengchou glanced back. His men, indeed, looked exhausted and starved. As they stared at the hundred-plus steaming pots, the word "HUNGRY" was written plainly on every face.
"Hm."
Hong Chengchou did care for his men. He nodded imperiously. "You may go. Participate with decorum. Mind your manners. Do not disturb the local folk."
His hundred-plus retainers, along with the several hundred soldiers and civilian porters escorting the grain, let out a muted cheer and surged toward the field of boiling pots.
And so, the Tianzun's Hotpot Festival officially welcomed its first… unexpected guests.
(Fact: The "unspoken rule" of officials lodging with local gentry was a cornerstone of Ming travel and politics. It was a transaction: the official received comfort and intelligence, the gentry gained protection and prestige. San Shier's seamless hospitality shows he is a master of this intricate social dance, even under the bizarre circumstances of a divinely-mandated spicy food festival.)