43. A New Journey, A New Goal

That afternoon, Old Guo left, for he simply had no time to linger. Though he felt reluctant as he passed by Xinping Post Station, the annual grand assembly was ultimately far more important.

Xia Lin saw him off outside the station, watching as Old Guo’s swift horse galloped away with a clattering sound. Turning around, Xia Lin treated himself to the supreme eight-tael and eight-cash meal set.

Old Guo’s visit was likely just to seek reassurance. Now that his heart was settled, Xia Lin believed he would most likely have the opportunity for a promotion.

The power of the provincial governor was immense—so great that he had direct authority to appoint or dismiss officials ranked fifth grade and below, including those at the fifth rank. Though he hadn’t made any explicit promises to Xia Lin, a clever provincial official would surely know how to keep close a hen that lays golden eggs.

Still, this New Year’s was rather quiet. Last year, the young princess had been here, bustling with energy, and Old Zhang had returned as well. But this year, Old Zhang was preoccupied with affairs at the Yuzhang Academy in Hongdu and paid no heed to other matters. To prevent the young princess from sneaking away again while he was in the capital, Prince Teng had taken her along to Jinling.

Miss Tang was originally supposed to stay here for the New Year, which was what Xia Lin had most hoped for. After more than a year together, there was barely a thin veil left between them—they were both adults, fully aware but unwilling to speak outright. If they could spend the New Year together this year, perhaps everything would naturally fall into place.

Alas, human affairs are rarely perfect. Before the New Year, Miss Tang received news from the Tang family headquarters in Luoyang, summoning her back to discuss matters of family division.

Xia Lin had intended to accompany her, but Miss Tang gently declined, explaining that this was a family affair and bringing an outsider would certainly invite gossip.

With things said so plainly, Xia Lin did not press further and had to watch helplessly as Miss Tang left before the New Year. Now, only Spring Peach and Xia Lin remained in the courtyard.

Over a year had passed, and Spring Peach had grown accustomed to rural life. Thanks to Xia Lin’s efforts, the town was thriving, and their quality of life visibly improved. Last year at this time, a bit of salted pork and a chicken from a neighbor was enough to celebrate the New Year. This year, the tables were laden with all kinds of dishes, north and south alike.

In theory, something should have happened over the past year—Spring Peach’s role was part of that. Yet Xia Lin was not a man of pure lineage from a traditional feudal family; he could never quite enjoy such treatment. Though he sometimes spoke out of turn, he lacked the courage to truly act on it.

Moreover, he had devoted most of his energy to developing his small town. Out of the 365 days in a year, he was busy almost every day, and on the few days off, he was still overseeing work alongside Miss Tang. Even if he wished, he lacked the stamina for much else. Thus, their relationship remained one of simple master and servant.

“Spring Peach, I raise this cup to you for all your hard work this year,” Xia Lin said, lifting his glass. “But finally, after hardship comes sweetness; life has steadied.”

By now, after several drinks, Spring Peach’s cheeks flushed a rosy red, her eyes sparkling with a hint of flirtation. Softly, she raised her cup, lightly clinked it against his, then drank it down in one go.

She was usually quiet—after all, a maid who talked too much only invited trouble. But since being given to Xia Lin, she had genuinely come to enjoy her time here and grown fond of the lively young scholar before her.

To be treated as a person was the dream of many enslaved souls, and here, Spring Peach truly felt it. Falling for him had become a matter of course, and over time, it was simply natural.

“By the way, Spring Peach, here is your salary for this year.”

Xia Lin took out a box and opened it before her eyes, revealing a golden bamboo-patterned bracelet even more exquisite and valuable than the hairpin he had given her last year. Seeing it, Spring Peach quickly waved her hand: “Master, this is far too precious.”

“I told you—it’s your salary,” Xia Lin said, reaching out to pull her arm gently. Spring Peach did not resist but watched as he fastened the bracelet on her wrist.

Though she protested, once it was on, she could not help but admire the shining gold in the lamplight, her heart filling with joy.

After dinner, they stayed up to welcome the New Year. Sitting in the small room before a glowing brazier, Spring Peach, slightly tipsy, leaned against Xia Lin’s leg and soon fell asleep. Xia Lin, meanwhile, watched the Spring Festival Gala on his phone.

Only now did he realize that, ever since he got the phone, to others it appeared as nothing more than a jade-green paperweight. No one could see or hear the content on the screen. Whether during the arena contest or at Prince Teng’s Pavilion, people only saw him staring blankly at a paperweight, then suddenly bursting out with a wild idea.

Looking back on that scene, Xia Lin felt so embarrassed he could almost build a three-bedroom apartment from it.

Despite the awkwardness, it added to his concealment and security. After all, no law forbade someone from holding a paperweight and scrolling with their thumb.

Being able to watch the Spring Festival Gala in this era was Xia Lin’s greatest comfort. Although he had tried myriad ways to contact the outside world, this peculiar phone could only receive messages from the future, never send them. Every attempt to communicate failed.

In the end, he resigned himself to this fate. Compared to other time travelers, receiving information from the future was already a tremendous blessing. If he couldn’t reply, it was fine—watching the comments and the bickering was entertainment enough.

After a while, he glanced down at Spring Peach, who was sleeping soundly. He thought that if he were anyone else, as long as they were healthy, they’d probably be quite active at this hour.

The thought stirred a youthful excitement in him, triggering the internal debate between his conscience and desire. The conscience argued this was no time to take advantage and that he owed loyalty to Miss Tang; the opposing voice insisted such outdated morality was irrelevant.

While these two voices argued, Xia Lin’s hand found its way to Spring Peach’s chest. Regardless of which side won, he decided to touch first.

The moment his hand touched her, Spring Peach awoke. She merely lifted her eyes to look at him, then gently pulled the blanket up to her chin.

Ah.

Xia Lin was stunned. With the moon full and the flowers blooming, refusing her would seem unromantic.

But this was a dangerous game—especially in such an intimate setting. Continuing would almost inevitably lead to a reckless climax.

Yet reckless or not, even the most jealous Lin Daiyu would have to call her maid Xiuren “sister-in-law” in this situation.

Just as Xia Lin’s fingers began to slip toward her collar, a booming voice interrupted from outside: “Trouble, master!”

The sudden shout shattered the romantic bubble, and Xia Lin, annoyed, threw on his clothes and stepped outside: “What is it?”

Zhao Da came panting, sweat pouring down his face, steam rising from his head as if he had run all the way.

“The people from Xiali and Shuishang villages—several hundred of them—have come here demanding justice.”

Xia Lin was taken aback. “What do they have to do with us? What justice are they demanding?”

His anger boiled. He had been busy all year without rest. Today was his rare chance to relax, only for trouble to arrive now.

“They say our village’s dock has disrupted their feng shui. Today, during their ritual offerings, they failed to light incense three times. They claim the river god is angry and want to tear down the dock.”

“How dare they!” Xia Lin finished dressing, his mouth twitching. “Damn superstitions, dragging me into this. Go, gather all the able-bodied men from the villages and the grass-shoe gang. If they dare tear down my dock, I’ll tear down their shrine!”

Zhao Da immediately set off to carry out the orders. Xia Lin had only taken a few steps outside when Spring Peach hurried after him.

He glanced at her and teased, “Awake now?”

She nodded, then added, “Master, I’ll go with you. I know a little martial arts…”

“Men’s business—women stay out of it,” Xia Lin pushed her gently back. “Tonight’s going to be lively.”

Spring Peach tried to say more, but Xia Lin waved her off. “Go back and rest well.”

Soon, the village’s potters and miners were assembled, along with some apprentices and the dock laborers—altogether nearly a thousand strong.

The key was that these men were sturdy and strong. Xia Lin paid well and fed them well; they worked hard physical labor and were as tough as iron, muscles bulging. They stood in stark contrast to the puny ruffians from other villages.

The group marched grandly to the dock, where a crowd had gathered—troublemakers from other villages, armed with plows, rakes, and iron picks, their demeanor fierce.

“Hey, hey, hey, let me see who dares cause trouble in my territory,” Xia Lin said, stepping forward with his men behind him, their presence instantly shifting the atmosphere. Each held a chisel or an iron blade used for panning, projecting a far different aura than the opposition.

He remained calm, grabbed an empty bucket to sit on, and rested the iron rod on his shoulder. “Tell me, what’s going on? Why come cause trouble on my turf? Didn’t you ask whose protection this place has?”