Chapter Seven: A Mantis Trying to Stop a Chariot

"I've moved out; I don't run into her anymore." When Ma Xingui brought this up, Meng Zhenyao replied with obvious disinterest.

But Wu Jicai, eager to curry favor with Ma Xingui, was unwilling to let Meng Zhenyao evade the topic so easily. He edged closer, wine cup in hand, and with a lascivious grin said, "Brother Zhenyao, your luck is really something. You killed your half-brother, yet still walked out of prison alive. Your father let it go, and even your stepmother lets you live freely—don't you have any thoughts about that?"

"If anyone should have thoughts, it ought to be them, not me. In any case, in half a month's time it's the Spring Examinations. I'll be leaving here for the imperial exams," Meng Zhenyao replied offhandedly.

He had no wish to pursue the subject further. Rising to his feet, he toasted each of his companions in turn, shifting the conversation to lighter matters—romance and revelry.

Three rounds of wine passed, and with heads buzzing and cheeks flushed, Meng Zhenyao arched his brows at the group. "Brothers Xingui, Yanbo, what a pleasure to wander and drink with you tonight. But the women here are all faces we've seen too often—no excitement. I've prepared a special 'delicacy' tonight. Would you two like a taste?"

"Oh?" Ma Xingui, a connoisseur in such matters, immediately withdrew his hand from the courtesan beside him. The prior boredom vanished, replaced by eager anticipation.

They all understood well enough what Meng Zhenyao meant by "delicacy."

She Yanbo also pushed away the courtesan at his side, clapping and laughing, "Little brother Zhenyao never arranges such amusements. Since you’ve suddenly taken an interest, this must be something extraordinary. Quickly, bring her in!"

Meng Zhenyao nodded with a slight smile and clapped three times.

From outside the cabin, a soft, mist-like singing drifted in. The sweet, clear notes instantly revitalized the company.

The cabin door opened. In stepped a woman in red, veiled and wearing a bamboo hat, singing as she walked with graceful steps.

She was clad in sheer gauze, her ample bosom half-exposed above a pale pink bodice. The candlelight cast a glow on her long, slender, jade-like legs which appeared and disappeared with her movement.

A single glance was enough to set their blood boiling.

Upon entering, the woman neither acted coy nor reserved. Humming a gentle tune, she turned her back to them, her slender waist swaying enticingly.

Slowly, she removed her hat.

As their anticipation mounted, the beauty glanced back, unveiled herself, and revealed a countenance of absolute, world-shaking beauty.

Voice, figure, face—a triple blow that left the men weak and restless.

Ma Xingui leapt to his feet, intent on pulling the beauty into his arms.

She laughed musically, evading his grasp. Her figure flashed past, the expanse of snowy skin above her bodice rippling like waves, nearly spilling free.

She Yanbo, who had meant to defer to Ma Xingui, was so aroused by the sight that he forgot himself and sprang forward as well.

By now, all three men felt their bodies burning, blood surging, their vision blurring as only the flash of red remained before their eyes.

Wu Xiongcai, unable to resist, joined the pursuit.

But the woman was nimble, slipping between the three dazed men with ease.

She Yanbo collided with Ma Xingui, who, feeling his body aflame and seeing his prize snatched away, flew into a rage and struck out with his palm.

She Yanbo, already irritable, was incensed by the blow and slapped Ma Xingui in return.

How could Ma Xingui tolerate such an insult? The two began to grapple like street ruffians.

Wu Xiongcai tried to intervene but was quickly dragged into the brawl, the three of them descending into a chaotic melee.

Meng Zhenyao stood in the doorway, watching with a slow, mocking smile.

The powder he had slipped them was evidently quite effective.

In fact, the more they fought, the angrier and more muddled they became.

Suddenly, She Yanbo felt something in his grip and, without a second thought, stabbed at Ma Xingui.

Once, twice, and again—

…

Elsewhere, upon the embankment spanning the canal, Di Ying stood, holding a two-meter-long waterproof torch wrapped in oiled cloth.

Dressed in the stately robes of an official, exuding an air of righteous severity, he stood tall and unmoving as the fine rain gradually soaked his hat and garments.

He stared steadily ahead.

Night deepened, the darkness thickening.

The rushing river before and behind him mirrored his solitary figure.

He stood there, a single light in the pitch-black rain and mist.

He wanted those who came to breach the dike to see him.

Tonight, not only did he wear his official robes, he had brought his official seal as well.

Either he would stand with the dike and survive, or fall with it and perish.

If a mere magistrate could not hold back the sinister hands of evil, then let this magistrate be swept away by the flood, and in doing so, raise a mighty wave to drag all those villains down with him.

Normally, the downstream villages, flooded nearly every year, should long have had no fields or settlements left.

But reality was otherwise.

To create enough disaster victims to alarm the court, the madmen Ma Guangjin and She Jianhong forced people to resettle there every year, establishing villages and opening farmlands.

The embankment itself was unnecessary.

Di Ying had studied the old maps of Bingzhou closely. Originally, the canal here should have curved westward past Bingzhou City before flowing south into the Unding River.

But since Ma Guangjin’s appointment, the canal had been straightened eastward to empty directly into the Fen River.

The Fen River, running north to south, curved eastward at Bingzhou like a drawn bow, and the canal, redirected, became an arrow shot into that arc.

At the very point where the canal changed course, a dike was built, like the nock holding the arrow in place.

To ensure the dike could be breached when "necessary," its ends were reinforced while a ten-meter section in the center remained deliberately weak.

Within a five-meter depth and six-meter width, only sacks filled with stones were piled.

To open the dike, one only had to pull out the sacks.

In other words, the floods that plagued Bingzhou were man-made, and often occurred more than once a year.

Whenever water needed to be retained, that ten-meter stretch would be blocked; when the reservoir was full, it would be opened.

Now, with the reservoir full and rain finally falling, Di Ying was certain Ma Guangjin and his accomplices would act within a day or two.

Time was short. Di Ying, with no one else to call upon—his people at the carriage house busy with other tasks—came here alone, bringing only his official seal, to stand upon the stone-packed sacks.

The river’s surface was less than half a meter below his feet.

Gazing into the darkness ahead, Di Ying thought of his grandparents, parents, elder brother, and younger siblings still in Jinzhou.

He had taken the imperial exams for the sake of those tax-free fields, so his family might live better. He had never intended to pit his life against corrupt officials.

But this crisis had come so suddenly…

Faced with such a momentous revelation, Di Ying was undeniably caught off guard.

With no one to help, he was forced to stand here alone, hoping to move the unmovable.

He would not drag others to their deaths.

He could only hope that the hasty arrangements he’d made would prove effective.

In truth, though he stood as steady as a pine, his heartstrings were taut with anxiety.

…

This night, everything brewed and fermented in silence, yet beneath it all, the drums of fate beat on.