Chapter Seventy-Four: Prejudice

It was already late. Qi Jun knew that, given his status as a county soldier recruiting guests, it would not be appropriate for him to head directly to the Prefect's residence at this hour. He slowed his pace, strolling the city streets, taking in the dazzling nightlife of the commandery while searching for a place to stay for the night.

Ding'an Commandery, a vital outpost on the northwest frontier of Great Liang, thrived on the constant flow of Western Region caravans and bustling border trade. To guard against raids and incursions by the Qiang from the northwest border, the court of Great Liang had stationed a large garrison here. Thus, Ding'an was both a commercial hub and a fortress.

Deng Fang’s uncle, Deng Yu, once served as the roving general of the Western Garrison stationed in Ding'an, commanding a thousand men—a position roughly equivalent to a regimental commander in later generations, according to the structure of the Liang army. Ding'an had been besieged by the Qiang several times, yet each time, the defenders had repelled the enemy. When Qi Jun entered the city, he saw the scars of hacking and burning left on the city walls, easily imagining the ferocity of the battles that had raged below.

The garrison soldiers were exceptionally thorough in their inspections of those entering and leaving the city, a precaution against enemy spies infiltrating within. Through conversations with the locals, Qi Jun learned that the higher entrance fee in Ding'an compared to Anqiang County was necessary for the maintenance and repair of the city walls and defense equipment. Moreover, the people of Ding'an were generally wealthier than those of Anqiang, making the fees more bearable for them. Ordinary folk usually left the city only once or twice a week; more frequent comings and goings would arouse the garrison’s suspicion.

Understanding these reasons, Qi Jun’s impression of Ding'an’s governance improved somewhat. After all, as a key stronghold in the northwest, the imperial court—unless it was wholly corrupt—would surely take great care in appointing and dismissing officials in such a city.

“Sir, we’ve been walking for quite some time. Perhaps we should find an inn to rest for the night?” The county soldier driving the cart noticed the lingering curiosity and excitement in Qi Jun’s eyes as he took in the city’s bustle, and added, “If you’re interested, I know a well-known teahouse where one can both enjoy the view and rest.”

“That sounds like a fine suggestion! Let’s find an inn first, and after we’ve rested and washed away the dust of the road, we can visit the teahouse.” Until now, Qi Jun had spent his days shuttling between the small town of Anqiang and Dongling Village; this was his first time setting foot in a city of Great Liang. The sights and sounds had indeed stirred in him a desire to explore the city by night, so he agreed after a moment’s thought.

“Sir, just ahead and a right turn down this road and there’s an inn with reasonable rates,” the county soldier said, pointing forward. As he spoke, Qi Jun could already see the upturned eaves and hipped roof of the inn at the corner in the distance.

Qi Jun had read about various types of traditional architecture in later generations, and just this morning had been pondering what kind of roof would look best on the house he planned to build for himself. Seeing this inn immediately gave him a concrete idea.

The hipped roof, or “resting hill roof,” was a style popular during the Song and Yuan dynasties. It had a main ridge, four descending ridges, and four secondary ridges, earning it the name “nine-ridge roof.” The four-sided hipped roof, typical of corner towers in the Ming and Qing eras, was a variant of this style.

“Though Great Liang may lag behind in military affairs, its craftsmen’s building skills are truly exquisite,” Qi Jun remarked with admiration as he stood gazing at the structure before him.

The inn bore a signboard above the entrance, “Drunken Spring Residence,” its three golden characters illuminated by lanterns on either side, giving the place a particularly grand air. Qi Jun stared dazedly at the roof, then examined the signboard, realizing that this must be one of the city’s more upscale establishments.

The county soldier brought the cart to a stop at the inn’s entrance and began unloading the luggage. He had led Qi Jun here partly to enjoy, for once, the life of the well-to-do by association—a chance he’d seized by accompanying him on this trip.

Qi Jun noticed the man’s little scheme but only smiled, choosing not to expose him. Since this county soldier was from the Second Squad, it might not be a bad thing to let him spread Qi Jun’s name among his fellows when he returned.

“Officer, you must be tired from the journey! Leave the unloading to me.” The inn’s porter, seeing the uniformed county soldier, hurried up, tied the horse to a post, and helped with the luggage.

But as he chanced a glance at Qi Jun, who stood nearby with hands behind his back—clad in a plain, dusty blue-grey robe, its front torn—his expression soured in obvious disdain.

“Hey! You there, I’m talking to you! If you’re looking for a handout or a drink, try somewhere else. Don’t stand here blocking the way for our guests!” The porter snapped, flapping his grimy rag at Qi Jun.

Qi Jun, lost in thought, was startled by a sudden gust of dust. Covering his mouth and nose, he frowned, waving away the swirling dirt. Noting the porter’s contemptuous glare and the filthy rag in his hand, Qi Jun realized he’d been mistaken for a beggar.

A surge of indignation welled up within him, but then, glancing down at his own travel-stained, tattered attire, he could only smile wryly at the misunderstanding.

“Young man, I’m actually here to—” He knew his appearance lent itself to such mistakes, so he suppressed his irritation and began to explain.

But the porter had no interest in hearing him out.

“What are you staring at? Move along, move along! Go on!” Seeing Qi Jun still lingering at the doorway, he shoved him on the shoulder with a look of disgust, flapping his rag to drive him away.

“Hey, what’s your problem? How can you be so snobbish!” Qi Jun, now thoroughly annoyed, pointed at the porter and snapped.

He had no wish to make a scene over such a trifle in a strange city, so he struggled to restrain himself. Yet his reaction, to the porter, only confirmed his belief that Qi Jun was nothing but a weak, penniless beggar.

“Hey! What are you doing? Why are you treating my master like this?” The county soldier, busy unloading the cart, finally noticed the commotion and looked up to see the porter in a heated dispute with Qi Jun.

“What did you say? This… this filthy beggar is your master?” The porter stared in disbelief, then stepped back and looked Qi Jun up and down anew.

“Bah! If you dare call him a filthy beggar again, I’ll smash your teeth in!” The county soldier’s temper flared instantly.

“Officer, if it’s you staying here, I’ll gladly serve you. But if you’re bringing this beggar in, it’ll ruin our inn’s reputation! Do you even know who owns this place? The name alone would scare you!” The porter, rather than backing down, grew even more brazen after the rebuke.

“Ha! You’re just a menial errand boy—don’t think I won’t hit you!” The county soldier planted himself in front of Qi Jun, rolling up his sleeves and glaring at the porter.

“I don’t care who you two are—if you want through that door, you’d better come back dressed properly!” The porter, emboldened by the inn’s status, rolled up his sleeves in defiance.

The inn was located on a bustling street, and by now, the squabble had drawn quite a crowd to the entrance. Qi Jun felt the sting of public humiliation acutely, wishing he could crawl into the cart and disappear.

“Enough already! Stop this racket!” he snapped, exasperated by the back-and-forth, both men taking turns shouting “filthy beggar” until Qi Jun didn’t know which of them he’d rather strike.

With a helpless sigh, he reached into his robe and, retrieving an item, held it high above his head and called out.