New Year’s Eve.

Outside, the north wind whipped up snowflakes, battering against the window paper with a dry rustling sound.

Inside, an oil lamp was turned up to its brightest, its dim yellow halo making the small earthen main room feel warm and cozy.

In the stove, firewood crackled and popped, and the rich aroma of stewed meat from the pot aggressively seeped into every corner of the house. This was the most sumptuous New Year’s Eve dinner the Su family had enjoyed in over a decade.

“Slow down, there’s more in the pot!”

Mrs. Su Chen chided with her words, but her chopsticks never stopped moving, precisely picking up a piece of perfectly marbled meat and placing it into Su Ming’s bowl. Looking at her three sons, her face blossomed into a wide smile.

Eldest Brother Su Feng buried his head in his food, the corners of his mouth glistening with grease. Sister-in-law Wang Chuntao, however, was more talkative. Chewing on meat, she chattered animatedly, “Mother, this New Year celebration of ours is even more comfortable than a landlord’s family! It’s all thanks to Little Uncle and Uncle Dequan’s care.”

“Yes, we owe it to the workshop’s blessings.” Su Shan, a man who had been silent most of his life, also, for the first time ever, raised his wine bowl. His cloudy eyes reflected the firelight as he actively clinked bowls with his eldest son.

“Father, don’t drink too much.” Second Brother Su Yang added more vegetables to his father’s plate, then turned to Su Ming, lowering his voice, “You kid, why are you as quiet as a gourd today?”

Su Ming stirred the rice in his bowl. The rich meaty aroma seemed unable to dispel a thread of chill in his heart.

He smiled, “It’s nothing. I just feel… it’s really good.”

It truly was good.

His mother’s nagging, his father’s rare smile, his eldest brother’s simple honesty, his sister-in-law’s straightforward cheerfulness, his second brother’s concern. All of this was like the warm lamplight in the room—real, yet fragile.

However, his “Listening to Sounds” technique could not be turned off.

Amidst the backdrop of this joyous laughter, he could “hear” the deathly silence behind the perpetually closed wooden door of Su Lai’s house deep in the village. No crying, no cursing, not even the faintest echo of wind passing through.

That silence was more unsettling than any sound.

“Disciple, thinking about that stray dog?” Lin Yu’s voice lazily sounded in his mind.

Su Ming’s heart tightened.

“The world of mortals is like this. Where there is light, the shadows are only deeper.” Lin Yu’s tone carried a hint of amusement. “What you see now is the light. That stray dog and the deathly silence in his home are the shadows.”

(Inner thoughts: “Sigh, it’s New Year’s Eve, can’t we just enjoy the meal properly? Must you be so profound? This braised pork smells amazing, too bad I can only smell it. In the old days… forget it, in the old days I was also working overtime eating instant noodles. Compared to that, being a ghost doesn’t seem so bad after all?”)

Looking at the white hairs at his parents’ temples, at the wrinkles on their faces that had smoothed out slightly due to their improved circumstances, something deep in Su Ming’s heart was profoundly touched.

He clenched his fist under the table.

What he wanted to protect was precisely this small, fragile light before him.

“Master,” he whispered in his heart, “I understand. Power isn’t just for keeping oneself alive.”

“Oh?” Lin Yu seemed somewhat interested. “Then what is it for?”

“So that those who want to live, can live well.”

Lin Yu was silent for a moment before leisurely saying, “That’s quite an ambition. However, the road must be walked step by step. First, finish this meal properly. Then you’ll have the strength to take the next step.”

Su Ming took a deep breath, temporarily suppressing those distracting thoughts and unease. He raised his head and gave his mother a brilliant smile, “Mother, it’s really delicious! I want another bowl!”

The wind and snow outside seemed to lessen a little.

The first day of the Lunar New Year, just as dawn was breaking.

Before the cooking smoke from every household had even risen, the village gong was struck, its *dang-dang* sound carrying far in the crisp, cold air.

“Come out, everyone! Come out! Village Chief Uncle is handing out red envelopes at the workshop entrance!”

The village’s half-grown children shouted at the top of their lungs, going from house to house.

The Su family also stepped out.

On the newly cleared workshop square, a dense, dark mass of people had already gathered. Almost everyone from the village, men and women, young and old, was present.

In the center of the square, two large iron pots were set up, boiling with steaming hot meat broth, its aroma filling the air.

Zhao Dequan stood on a makeshift wooden platform, wearing a brand new deep blue silk-faced cotton robe. Behind him stood the two burly men Su Ming had secretly “seen” before. The two stood like iron pagodas, their eyes coldly sweeping over everyone below the stage.

The villagers huddled together, whispering to each other, their faces a mixture of anticipation, awe, and unease.

Su Ming noticed that in the crowd, the men newly recruited into the workshop stood furthest back, each with their heads bowed like quails. The shrewdness and ambition written on their faces just days ago had completely vanished, replaced only by obedience.

“Fellow villagers!” Zhao Dequan cleared his throat, his voice loud and clear, “Happy New Year!”

A sparse, scattered response came from below the stage.

“I know, everyone worked hard last year.” Zhao Dequan wore a genial smile on his face. “Our Su Family Village, generation after generation with our faces to the earth and backs to the sky, has never held our heads as high as we have this year!”

He paused, raising his volume, “Who do we owe this to? To everyone working together! Therefore, on behalf of the workshop, I, Zhao Dequan, am giving everyone a red envelope to share in the festive spirit!”

As he spoke, he waved his hand.

The burly men behind him carried out two heavy wooden trays piled high with strings of coins wrapped in red paper.

“For all the old hands in the workshop, three hundred copper coins each! Newcomers, one hundred copper coins each! Those not working in the workshop, every household also gets a share, fifty copper coins! For good luck!”

The crowd instantly erupted into commotion.

Three hundred copper coins! That was nearly half a month’s wages for a strong laborer!

“Thank you, Village Chief Uncle!”

“Village Chief Uncle is truly a Living Bodhisattva!”

For a moment, flattery and words of gratitude rose and fell, instantly dispersing the previously oppressive atmosphere.

The villagers lined up, stepping forward one by one to receive their money. Genuine joy beamed on every face.

Zhao Dequan watched all this with a smile. When the red envelopes were mostly distributed, he raised his hand again, signaling for everyone to quiet down.

“The money is a small matter.” His voice grew serious, his smile fading. “What I want to talk about today is rules!”

The square instantly fell silent.

“It wasn’t easy for our Su Family Village to reach today. What I hate most are those ingrates who eat the meat from the bowl, then curse the provider after putting it down, and even want to smash everyone else’s rice bowl!”

His gaze swept over everyone below the stage like a knife, lingering especially long on the group of new workers.

“Some people have stretched their hands too far and their hearts are too wild. They always feel they got less than their share of the workshop’s meat. But they never consider that without this workshop, you wouldn’t even get a sip of broth!”

A cold wind blew past, swirling up snow powder from the ground. Everyone felt a chill rise from the soles of their feet.

“I, Zhao Dequan, will say this clearly. If anyone dares to play tricks behind the scenes, ruining the village’s good fortune, don’t blame me, Zhao Dequan, for being ruthless!” He pointed towards the direction of the village’s east end not far away. “Su Lai is the example set before you! Where is he now? I tell you, he colluded with outsiders, tried to burn down the workshop, and I sent him to the county jail! He’ll never come out in this lifetime!”

*Boom!*

A wave of suppressed gasps rose from the crowd.

Su Lai was sent to jail?

Su Ming’s heart, however, was icy cold. He knew Zhao Dequan was lying. After that night, Su Lai’s presence had completely vanished. It definitely wasn’t as simple as being sent to jail.

This was a “story” told to everyone, a warning of “killing the chicken to scare the monkey.”

“See that, disciple?” Lin Yu’s voice chimed in appropriately. “After giving the carrot, the big stick must follow. First, tie people together with benefits, then use fear to knock out the troublemakers. This Zhao Dequan is quite skilled at playing power games.”

(Inner thoughts: “Tsk tsk, this acting talent is wasted not going to film school. ‘Sent to the county jail’? Trying to fool ghosts? Oh, I am a ghost… well, you can’t fool me either. But the effect is really good. Look at those troublemakers, their faces have gone pale.”)

Su Ming looked at the faces of the villagers below.

He saw gratitude, he saw awe, and beneath that gratitude and awe, he saw deep, profound fear.

Zhao Dequan was no longer just the Village Chief who needed to navigate between villagers and the government.

He had become the king of Su Family Village.

“Alright, it’s the New Year, let’s not talk about such depressing things.” Zhao Dequan’s expression softened again, as if the severity from moments ago was just an illusion. “Everyone, go get a bowl of meat broth to warm yourselves! When spring comes, the big merchants from the south will arrive. They’re clamoring for our paper! When that time comes, everyone’s share of the profits will only be greater!”

The word “merchants” was like a new seed planted in every villager’s heart.

It represented more money, a better life.

The Su family also received their red envelopes. Su Shan and Mrs. Su Chen held the several heavy strings of copper coins, their hands trembling slightly.

Su Ming tucked his share of the red envelope into his robe. The copper coins wrapped in red paper felt somewhat burning hot to the touch.

It wasn’t a kindness.

It was a shackle.

The crowd gradually dispersed, each holding bowls of meat broth, returning home with faces showing both satisfaction and complex emotions.

Su Ming walked at the very back. He turned and took one last look.

On the high platform, Zhao Dequan stood with his hands behind his back, looking down over the entire village. The two burly men still stood behind him like door gods.

A gust of wind blew, making Zhao Dequan’s robe flutter and snap loudly.

Su Ming saw that at the easternmost end of the village, in front of the tightly closed courtyard gate of Su Lai’s house, his wife was kneeling in the snow, silently kowtowing in the direction of Zhao Dequan.

Once, then again.

Her face held no tears, only an ashen, numb expression.

Su Ming withdrew his gaze, silently tightening his grip on the burning hot red envelope tucked inside his robe.

This New Year had ultimately not been spent in peace.

Would the so-called “big merchants” bring more wealth, or an even greater storm?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep