Chapter Twenty-Nine: Dedication and Devotion to Work

As soon as Zhang Desen heard that arrogant, grating voice, he was immediately displeased. He had never intended to cause trouble—his only goal was to finish offering incense and return safely to the Liu residence. He felt uneasy in the current environment; after eavesdropping on the conversation between those terror men and Young Master Qian, he was well aware that the technologically advanced group had set their sights on him. Although those men might have outsmarted themselves and possibly make mistakes, caution was still necessary. Furthermore, there was the mysterious family retainer at Qian's side, who Zhang suspected might be his former comrade.

At this moment, Zhang Desen’s top priority was to keep a low profile—his best means of self-preservation. Yet today, it seemed a counterattack was unavoidable, if only to shield Liu Yuting from harm. After all, he was now a retainer of the Liu household. If he failed to protect the master's daughter on her first outing under his escort, it would bode poorly for him.

Having swiftly considered all this, Zhang Desen turned with Miss Liu Yuting. He wasn’t masked, but he had donned local attire over his uniform and wore no helmet, so there was no risk of anyone connecting him to the mysterious hero in odd clothes. What caught him off guard was the sight of a young beauty before him, as alluring in form as Liu Yuting herself. Her features were delicate and refined, dressed in a fiery red gown, exuding the same innocent charm of youth, and seemingly of the same age as Miss Liu. Yet unlike Liu Yuting, her face radiated arrogance and undisguised contempt for Zhang Desen and his companions—a waste of natural beauty, Zhang thought privately. He couldn’t help but compare the two, but before he could speak, the young woman continued:

“Oh! This boy toy isn’t bad! You really know how to pick them, you little tramp!”

Rage flared within Zhang Desen. He bore this girl no ill will, yet was mocked without cause—it was intolerable. Fearing Zhang Desen might not know the identity of their adversary, Liu Yuting’s maid quickly whispered to him, introducing the proud girl before them. Meanwhile, Liu Yuting herself fumed, though she had never spoken to Zhang Desen of Miss Wang Rou’er, daughter of the Earl of Xuanwei. Originally, there had been no animosity between them, but because both were equally beautiful, people often compared them. Wang Rou’er, feeling slighted that a merchant’s daughter should be measured against her, a noble’s child, had harbored a grudge ever since. She seized every opportunity to humiliate Liu Yuting, desperate to assert her superior status. No matter the occasion, as long as she saw Liu Yuting, she would use every means to belittle her.

This time, Liu Yuting was seething inwardly, but she maintained her composure, refusing to stoop to her rival’s level or provide ammunition for malicious gossip. Besides, she didn’t want Zhang Desen to witness her losing her temper in an argument, lest he form a poor opinion of her. With effort, she suppressed her anger and answered Wang Rou’er as calmly as she could:

“This is a place of Buddhist serenity, Miss Wang, yet your thoughts stray far from the Buddha. I take my leave.” She glanced at Zhang Desen, who was surprised that Liu Yuting seemed to seek his opinion. He nodded, and together, they made to leave, the maid following close behind.

But Wang Rou’er would not let them go. She signaled her attendants to block their way and sneered at Liu Yuting:

“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘your thoughts stray from the Buddha’? And you? Are your thoughts only of your boy toy? How dare a lowly merchant’s daughter speak to me, the daughter of an earl?”

Before Liu Yuting could reply, Zhang Desen stepped in:

“The daughter of an earl, yet so full of baseness—what a pity! The beauty of the soul is not reflected in this noble’s child; instead, she displays nothing but petulance and shamelessness. Alas, one is sullied by bad company.”

The onlookers burst into laughter, leaving Wang Rou’er fuming, her pride in tatters. She shouted at Zhang Desen:

“And what are you supposed to be, you plaything? Watch your mouth, or I’ll tear it off!”

Zhang Desen replied lightly:

“Alas, the morals of the world are in decline. Clearly, your noble household must be filled with such things, for even when meeting a stranger for the first time, your only thought is that he’s a boy toy. It seems, Miss, that you are surrounded by such companions at home and have little idea of the richness of the world outside. Perhaps you should step out more often—there is more to life than just boy toys. Otherwise, you might never find a husband. Ha!”

Laughter erupted all around. Wang Rou’er, more incensed than ever, was about to lose all control when Zhang Desen said:

“The finest garment a woman can wear is gentleness. Today, I have seen this for myself. Amitabha, farewell!” With that, he departed for the door with Liu Yuting and the others.

But just as they reached the exit, Wang Rou’er shrieked:

“What are you all standing there for? Get them—break their legs!”

Liu Yuting started with fright, but Zhang Desen caught her hand, saying, “I’m here.” No sooner had he spoken than a servant rushed at them. With a swift, high whip kick, Zhang Desen broke the man’s jaw. The remaining fifteen servants charged, but met with similar fate.

Now Wang Rou’er finally showed fear, trembling as she pointed at Zhang Desen:

“What do you think you’re doing? I am the daughter of the Earl of Xuanwei! If you dare harm me, my father will never forgive you!”

But Zhang Desen strode toward her. Panicking, she retreated several steps. When he was three paces away, he spoke:

“Please, in the future, do not disregard others. Every action has its consequence. I have no wish to do anything now, so you need not fear. But let me tell you: there is no such thing as a lowly profession. Mr. Liang Qichao once wrote, ‘Humans labor for life and live for labor. Since we were not created by God to be mere bread-digesting machines, each of us should, according to position and talent, choose a task to pursue. Any endeavor, so long as it is honest, is worthy of respect. Whether one is President or a rickshaw puller, the title may differ in the eyes of the world, but its value, when examined with reason, is the same. If one becomes President because he is fit for it and does it sincerely, or pulls a rickshaw because he is suited to it and does so with integrity, then both live a rational life. This is the sanctity of labor, and thus all professions are honorable and worthy of respect. That is why we make no distinction among them.’ The only reason you look down on others is because you cannot support yourself and live only by leeching off the efforts of others, making you nothing but a parasite—a thief who robs others of the fruits of their labor. Your arrogance is but a mask for your insecurity. I hope you understand. Farewell.”

Wang Rou’er was mortified, both ashamed and furious. She screamed at Zhang Desen:

“And what are you to lecture me? I am the daughter of the Earl of Xuanwei! How dare you compare yourself to me? Just wait—you’ve humiliated me today, and I’ll tell my father. He’ll have you torn limb from limb! Just you wait!”

Zhang Desen answered at once:

“Call whoever you wish. I’ll be waiting!”

With that, Zhang Desen, Liu Yuting, and their companions left the gates of Miaoming Temple and headed back to the Liu residence, leaving Wang Rou’er standing there in stunned helplessness. Unbeknownst to Zhang Desen, his words, which seemed ordinary to him, were earth-shattering to the crowd. Many of the small merchants and peddlers listening nearby, for the first time, felt a sense of dignity.

At this point, Zhang Desen didn’t worry about whether Wang Rou’er would seek revenge. If she continued to target Liu Yuting, it was unavoidable; he could only meet force with force, adapt as needed. They soon reached the temple gates. To avoid drawing attention, they took paths less traveled—Zhang Desen was used to being watched, and Liu Yuting had always preferred discretion. The three of them walked back quietly. Yet, since the Liu residence was in a bustling district, they could not stick to back roads alone.

As they walked, a shout suddenly rang out ahead:

“Ghost! Ghost! Run for your lives!”

Zhang Desen was baffled. How could there be ghosts in broad daylight, in such a crowded market? Was this another nickname for Wu Dazhong? But wasn’t he locked up?

Before he could make sense of it, Liu Yuting pulled him into a side alley to hide. Once inside, Zhang Desen asked, “Are there really ghosts? Do you know something?”

Liu Yuting replied, “It’s Young Master Qian, nicknamed ‘Flower-faced Demon.’ People call him ‘ghost’ for short, so everyone knows when to hide.”

Now Zhang Desen understood. Sure enough, Young Master Qian and his gang of loafers strolled by. Zhang Desen noted with some surprise that the terror men's medical skills were impressive—Qian and his friends looked fully recovered and moved with renewed vigor. They swaggered along, robbing any small merchant who failed to get out of their way, beating anyone who showed the slightest displeasure, and even interrogating passersby about various matters.