For the next two days.
Every noon, Yang Jing would go to the butcher shop in the West Market to buy two jin of horse meat.
Before cooking it, he would deliberately take out a dagger and practice cutting on the horse meat.
His technique in cutting meat had become much more proficient, but he often mangled the horse meat into pieces. Fortunately, that did not stop it from being eaten.
In the afternoons, Yang Jing would also leave half an hour early.
When Fourth Senior Brother Liu Maolin came to ask, Yang Jing simply said there were matters at home.
Wazi Township, Hu Village.
In a courtyard at the head of the village.
The December night wind swept snow pellets against the window paper, yet not the slightest chill seeped through.
This courtyard was a derelict villa of the Ning Family. Though hardly luxurious, it was far sturdier than an ordinary farmer's home. The window paper was pasted thick, and a small brazier burned in the corner, a wine pot warming atop it, steam rising.
In the main room, five men sat around a square table, all dressed in thick short clothes with tight cuffs.
The leader, his face full of bulging flesh with a pair of triangular eyes squeezed in between, was none other than Feng Lei, the infamous thug renowned throughout the surrounding villages.
He was pinching a piece of sauced beef and sending it into his mouth, his cheeks bulging. With a bob of his Adam's apple, he swallowed, then immediately raised his wine bowl and took a fierce gulp, liquor sliding down from the corners of his mouth.
Setting down the wine bowl, Feng Lei's gaze swept across the meat and dishes on the table, carrying a few degrees of smugness—in these times, only by relying on his cousin's face could he live so comfortably under the Ning Family's roof.
"Boss, I think that old Yang family has softened up. Once Master Ning returns, they should be ready to sell their land. Should we still throw filth on their door tomorrow?" asked a skinny youth.
"Keep throwing it!" Feng Lei snorted coldly. "I heard they still want Master Ning to pay them more. Then let's scare them out of their wits. Let's see if the Yang family still dares to bring up raising the price by then!"
A short-eyebrowed man sitting lower down sucked his teeth, clipped a piece of rabbit meat, and stuffed it into his mouth. "Why don't we just bring a few men and smash their plow? Come spring, they'll all starve to death!"
"Idiot!" Feng Lei glared and cursed. "My cousin just sent word. Master Ning cares most about face. We can't do anything violent openly. But in secret..."
He sneered, his triangular eyes narrowing. "...they need to know that not listening to the Ning Family, not listening to me, Feng Lei, means no good end!"
A thin, monkey-like man beside him hurriedly chimed in, "The boss is right! The lady is now the apple of Master Ning's eye. If we handle this matter beautifully, not only does the lady gain face, but before Master Ning, Boss, your weight grows heavier too, right?"
Feng Lei grunted lightly, his expression easing considerably. He raised his wine bowl and drained it. "At least you know how to talk. Tomorrow, go douse their firewood pile with water. In the dead of winter, let's see what they use to heat their kang."
Setting down the wine bowl, Feng Lei continued, "Then go keep watch by the well at the head of Yang Family Village. When Old Man Yang's people go to fetch water, 'accidentally' knock their buckets over."
Feng Lei placed extra emphasis on the word "accidentally," his voice pausing slightly, his knuckles rapping the table. "Grind them down bit by bit. Let's see how long they can last. By the time Master Ning returns, the old Yang family will have been ground down to nothing, and then they'll definitely hand over the land obediently. Only if this matter is handled flawlessly will my cousin have something to boast about before Master Ning."
Feng Lei lifted his chin high, glancing at his subordinates. "My cousin having face before Master Ning means I have face before Master Ning. Me having face before Master Ning means you lot can live more comfortably, can eat meat and drink wine in these times!"
"Yes, Boss!"
"Yes!"
Several henchmen hurriedly voiced their agreement.
Charcoal in the brazier popped with sparks, illuminating the faces of the five men.
They ate their food and drank their liquor, completely ignoring the famine and cold outside.
Though they had been able to get some food and benefits from the Ning Family in the past, they never had the chance to eat such a sumptuous meal.
Having finally eaten so lavishly today, all five let themselves go, eating and drinking their fill!
"Brothers, drink! We won't go home until we're drunk!" Feng Lei raised his wine bowl and shouted loudly, brimming with heroic spirit.
Fenglou Village, in the woods beside the only dirt road outside the village, on a cold night.
Yang Jing had already been lurking for four days.
Pale moonlight leaked through the bare branches, illuminating the hoarfrost at his temples with a white sheen. The cold had long since penetrated into his skin.
Late at night, sudden staggering footsteps sounded from the distance.
Yang Jing hastily looked in the direction of the sound, his pupils involuntarily contracting. "It's Feng Lei!"
These past few days of lurking in secret, Yang Jing had discovered that Feng Lei drank almost every day, though mostly not to great excess.
But today, Feng Lei was clearly far drunker than the previous days, his cotton-padded garment hanging open, humming an off-tune ditty as he walked.
His footsteps were as insubstantial as if treading on cotton. Every few steps he would sway, even bumping into a roadside tree trunk, but he only chuckled twice before staggering toward home again.
Yang Jing's heart stirred, a sharp glint flashing across his eyes—the opportunity had come.
After Feng Lei swayed past, he silently followed behind, like a shadow melding into the night.
Watching Feng Lei sway to the third courtyard at the village entrance, fumbling for a long time before finding the bolt, stumbling inside, then hearing a click—the sound of the door being barred from within.
Yang Jing did not hesitate. He quickly circled to the courtyard wall. This earthen wall was not particularly high. He took a deep breath, used the branches of an old locust tree by the wall, and nimbly flipped over, landing with only a barely audible thud.
The courtyard was deathly silent. Only the main room still leaked a bit of dim yellow light—presumably Feng Lei had just entered.
Yang Jing crept along the base of the wall to beneath the window, listening to the sounds of slippers and collapsing onto the bed from within, followed by heavy snoring that shook the window paper slightly.
Yang Jing patiently waited for roughly the time it takes to burn a stick of incense. The snoring grew increasingly heavy and turbid—clearly he was already deeply asleep.
Yang Jing took a deep breath, walked to the room door, and pushed gently. The door was not barred, only ajar.
He held his breath, pushed open the door, and entered. The room was thick with the smell of wine.
By the moonlight filtering through the window, he could see Feng Lei lying spread-eagled on the bed, saliva still hanging from the corner of his mouth.
Yang Jing moved step by step to the bedside. The dagger slid from his sleeve into his palm, cold spreading along his fingertips.
His gaze was cold and sharp, as if he had practiced this a thousand times. Without the slightest hesitation, his left hand suddenly pressed down on Feng Lei's shoulder while his right hand gripped the dagger, slashing across the other's throat as fast as lightning.
"Hurk—"
A vague airy sound emerged from Feng Lei's throat. His body twitched violently once, then was still. Warm blood splashed onto the back of Yang Jing's hand, carrying an iron-like stench.
Shhk!
Without the slightest hesitation, Yang Jing plunged the dagger into Feng Lei's throat. Although Feng Lei already appeared dead, Yang Jing struck again to be certain.
He pulled out the dagger and wiped it clean on the bedding beside him. Glancing at Feng Lei, who now completely lacked breath on the bed, Yang Jing pressed his lips tightly together.
Then he rapidly searched Feng Lei's body, pulling out a bulging money pouch from the corpse's chest. It was heavy in his hand.
He had no time to examine it closely. Weighing it in his hand, he stuffed it into his own chest, then immediately turned and, just as he had come, silently exited the room, scaled the courtyard wall, and vanished into the thick darkness of night.