A semicircle of miners knelt on the ground.
Not five or ten—dozens of them, spreading out like a kneeling human fan in front of Qiu Qianfan. Heads bowed, backs hunched, hands rough and cracked from years of iron dust and stone.
It was… difficult to look at.
Or rather, painfully awkward.
Qiu Qianfan stood there, hands stiff at his sides, his face twisted into an expression best described as a man actively wishing for spontaneous invisibility.
"About the wages…" he cleared his throat. "…cough… the matter is this."
Every miner lifted his head slightly.
Qiu Qianfan's voice grew weaker with every word.
"The imperial court has recently been… occupied. Bandits. Marauders. Suppression campaigns. Logistics." He spread his hands helplessly. "As such… this official… truly has no silver to disburse."
Silence.
Then—
"Magistrate Qiu," one miner said hoarsely, "if we don't get paid, we'll starve."
Another added bitterly, "Being buried alive in the mine might actually be faster."
"At least it wouldn't take months," someone muttered.
Qiu Qianfan stared at them.
Speechless.
What could he say?
Please starve patiently, the court is busy?
Being a local official in the late Ming was a profession that shaved years off a man's lifespan. Qiu Qianfan felt his head swell until it was twice its normal size.
At that moment, a soft chuckle sounded.
The voice of Dao Xuan Tianzun drifted down, light and amused.
"Yiye. You understand."
Gao Yiye did not hesitate.
Years of serving as the Saintess had trained her well. She didn't need explanations—only intent. She stepped forward, skirts brushing the dust, expression calm and gentle.
"Magistrate Qiu," she said softly, "are you saying… you cannot pay them?"
Qiu Qianfan's ears burned. "I have exhausted every avenue. The prefectural treasury is empty. Last year's tax silver was scraped together by selling off everything that wasn't nailed down. This year—"
He stopped.
Then, with a bitter smile, he spread his hands.
"There is nothing left. Taxes, wages, obligations—I acknowledge them all. But I have no silver. None."
The miners' faces drained of color.
Several hands tightened around mining picks.
The mood shifted—heavy, brittle, dangerous.
Then Gao Yiye spoke again.
"If the court is struggling," she said, voice clear, "then those who have prospered first should shoulder the burden."
She turned slightly, her gaze sweeping over the miners.
"My Li family will pay their wages."
For a heartbeat, no one reacted.
Then the village erupted.
"A living Bodhisattva!"
"She saved us from the mine and now feeds us too!"
"Is this a dream?!"
Qiu Qianfan's eyes lit up—but only for a moment. He was no fool.
"What," he asked carefully, "does Madam Li want in return?"
Gao Yiye answered without hesitation. "The mining rights to this iron ore."
Qiu Qianfan understood instantly.
A private concession.
In northern Shanxi, this was hardly unusual. Coal and iron mines dotted the land—some registered, some… conveniently overlooked.
He nodded once. "Agreed."
Gao Yiye was mildly surprised.
Back in Heyang County, Magistrate Feng Jun had negotiated until his beard nearly fell out. Yet Qiu Qianfan didn't even blink.
Interesting.
Qiu Qianfan continued, lowering his voice. "Madam Li, I know the Li family's strength. The grain entering Puzhou through General Xing—without it, this city would already be in chaos."
He exhaled slowly.
"My only wish is simple: keep the people fed. Keep them calm. Prevent rebellion."
He paused, then added bluntly, "As for the rest, this official can choose not to see."
Gao Yiye understood perfectly.
In a province crawling with hundreds of thousands of marauders, ideology mattered less than survival.
An agreement was reached.
Everyone got what they wanted.
That evening, the Puzhou City barracks.
Lao Nanfeng stripped off his lamellar armor and changed into civilian clothes. With a few trusted militia brothers, he swaggered out of the gates, humming loudly.
"No matter how hard I fly—
I still can't escape this world of flowers and delights~"
The soldiers burst out laughing.
"Brother Nanfeng," one teased, "you haven't even left the barracks and you're already like this?"
Lao Nanfeng laughed heartily. "You brats don't understand where we are."
He waved grandly at the city.
"This is Puzhou. Ancient Puban. The birthplace of civilization itself. The Center of All Under Heaven!"
The soldiers blinked.
Lao Nanfeng warmed to the topic. "Liu Zongyuan. Wang Wei. Sikong Tu. Poets, painters, martial artists—opera and boxing styles were born here!"
The soldiers stared at him in awe. "Brother Nanfeng… you know a lot."
"Of course!" he boomed. "Tonight, I'm taking you to experience culture!"
The soldiers cheered. "Following Brother Nanfeng, we see the world!"
Lao Nanfeng sighed theatrically. "Shame we can't drink."
A soldier slipped him a waterskin. "We can drink this."
Lao Nanfeng sniffed it.
"…That smells like alcohol."
"Don't worry. Tianzun calls it 'alcohol-free sparkling wine.' Less than zero point five percent."
Lao Nanfeng hesitated. "I'd dare defy imperial law—but Gao Family Village rules? Never."
"It's allowed."
Lao Nanfeng grinned. "Brotherly loyalty!"
He took a long gulp, eyes lighting up. "Ha! Wine without punishment!"
The waterskin passed around. Spirits lifted.
By the time they reached the market streets, they were laughing and swaying, utterly fearless.
Dusk had fallen. Taverns were full. Lanterns glowed.
Lao Nanfeng grabbed a passerby, grin wicked.
"Brother," he asked, "which way to the brothels?"
The passerby pointed.
Lao Nanfeng laughed.
"The Center of All Under Heaven, indeed!"