Chapter Thirty: Li Ji Is About to Lose His Temper

“You little rascal, how dare you be so ungrateful? After all the trouble I went through to save you from the battlefield, this is how you repay me? Hurry up and send over a set of your tables and chairs for me, or do you want me to kick your behind?”

In the courtyard, Li Kong stared dumbfounded at Cheng Yaojin before him. He’d always heard that Cheng Yaojin was a formidable villain—arguably the most shameless scoundrel of the Zhenguan era. Yet his impression of Cheng Yaojin remained fixed on their days in the barracks, when Cheng was stern and composed, a true fierce general among commanders.

So why had the tone changed so abruptly?

Spittle flew freely toward Li Kong’s face; in just a few moments, droplets ran down his cheeks, as if he’d just taken a hot shower. Li Kong glanced up at the ice crystals forming atop the branches and shivered, hurriedly stepping back several paces. He called out loudly, “Four Peach Pu, Lord Cheng, is it now lawful in Tang for nobles to insult and beat commoners as they please?”

Cheng Yaojin’s tirade stopped abruptly, his mouth agape, eyes still burning with anger and mockery, finger pointed at Li Kong like a door god—no wonder he was immortalized as one, his appearance alone needed no embellishment.

After a long pause, Cheng Yaojin bellowed, “You little brat, you—well, I don’t care! If you don’t give me a set of those tables and chairs, I’m not leaving today.”

“Tables and chairs, is it? Fine, ten strings of cash per set. Bring the money, and you can take them away!” Li Kong’s expression was matter-of-fact, but his words set Cheng Yaojin off instantly.

What? After saving you, you won’t even spare a set of tables and chairs?

In truth, it wasn’t the ten strings of cash that mattered to Cheng Yaojin. He was, after all, Duke of Lu in the Tang, with land and incomes; his wife was from the renowned Cui family of Boling, one of the five great surnames. While their household wasn’t the richest in the realm, their monthly expenses were certainly more than a hundred strings.

What irked him was—he, the mighty Cheng Demon King, was being extorted by a brat? Was this extortion? Was it?

Li Kong observed Cheng Yaojin’s changing expressions, and with his years of experience, knew the general was about to explode. Before Cheng could speak, Li Kong rushed over, putting on a mournful face:

“My dear Uncle Cheng, please don’t blame your nephew for being so desperate for money—I have no choice. Look, there are ten or so mouths in my courtyard, yet our monthly allowance is only three strings. Did you know, yesterday I had to shamelessly borrow a string from Her Majesty just to get by? If I can’t sell these things for some coin, everyone here will starve to death!”

This tearful complaint thoroughly bewildered Cheng Yaojin, who regarded Li Kong with suspicion. He found Li Kong’s claim hard to believe.

Three strings? Even the entertainers in the pleasure houses made more than that. Li Kong was, after all, the eldest son of the Duke of England.

Yet Cheng Yaojin was a man who’d climbed up from humble beginnings; his mind was far sharper than his rough exterior let on—otherwise, he wouldn’t have become one of the old ministers who thrived into old age during the Zhenguan reign.

So after a moment’s thought, he dropped any mention of saving Li Kong’s life, pulled out two silver ingots from his pocket and tossed them to him. “I don’t have much cash on me, but these should tide you over for now. Don’t forget to send the set of tables and chairs over. That’s all. Visit my house when you have time.”

With that, Cheng Yaojin turned and left.

Li Kong stared at the silver ingots in his hand, momentarily stunned.

Silver ingots had been circulating since the Sui dynasty, but were mostly used by the elite or wealthy merchants. Each ingot was worth between seven and ten strings of cash, depending on its weight.

Li Kong weighed the ingots—at least fifteen strings’ worth.

“That Uncle Cheng, carrying so much money on him? What’s he planning?” Li Kong was both excited and puzzled, but soon dismissed his doubts. Cheng Yaojin’s intentions had nothing to do with him, at least for now, so worrying further was pointless.

Besides, his goal had already been achieved. Feeling satisfied, he tossed the ingots to Laifu at his side. “Go, exchange these for copper coins and hand them to the lady for safekeeping.”

Laifu stared at the ingots, then broke into delighted laughter. Two ingots would see them comfortably through two months.

Laifu ran off, elated. Watching his retreating figure, Li Kong smiled and shook his head.

This was hardly a substantial sum. There were still dozens of sets of tables and chairs in the back, and according to his plan, they’d all be sold within two days. That money would serve as the seed capital for his next business venture.

He’d already drafted half of the proposal he intended to discuss with Li Shimin; once he had all the funds, he could submit it and begin.

The days ahead looked bright, but before that, Li Kong narrowed his gaze toward the main residence in the southeast. What he’d told Cheng Yaojin today wasn’t just a complaint—regarding Lady Wang, though Li Kong didn’t wish to stir trouble, it didn’t mean he couldn’t use another’s hand to do so.

Just as Li Kong had anticipated.

Instead of returning to Duke Lu’s mansion, Cheng Yaojin crossed the walls and entered Li Ji’s main hall.

Upon arrival, he found Li Ji pacing back and forth, his face full of hesitation and indecision. He kept glancing toward the side residence, then at the low couches in the hall, before suddenly realizing and joking, “Brother, why are there no tables and chairs here?”

Li Ji paused, then shot Cheng Yaojin a fierce glare. “Did you ask that boy for a set?”

“Wrong—I didn’t ask, I bought them. The boy’s suffering so much, I had to buy them out of pity!” Cheng Yaojin, shrewd as he was, had already guessed most of Li Kong’s intentions. Still, he was happy to play this role, especially knowing how much Li Shimin favored Li Kong.

Moreover, Li Kong’s solo conquest of the Turks had nearly made Cheng Yaojin idolize him. So this little matter was nothing.

“Suffering? How so?” Li Ji was confused.

Cheng Yaojin sat heavily on the low couch. “There are over ten people in the side residence, and their monthly allowance is just three strings. Isn’t that hardship? I’m amazed none of them have starved. That’s a trick—I’ll go ask them later how they manage it.”

Li Ji shot up, angry. “How could it be just three strings? I clearly approved…”