54: Zhao Lizheng's red envelope is a hot potato!

New Year's Eve.

Outside, the north wind carried snowflakes, rustling dryly against the window paper.

Inside, an oil lamp was trimmed brightly, its dim yellow glow warming the small earthen house's main room.

In the stove, firewood crackled, and the rich aroma of stewing meat permeated every corner of the house. This was the most lavish New Year's Eve the Su Family had enjoyed in over a decade.

"Eat slowly, there's more in the pot!"

Madam Su Chen chided, yet her chopsticks never stopped, skillfully placing a piece of meat with both fat and lean parts into Su Ming's bowl. She looked at her three sons, a wide smile blooming on her face.

Eldest Brother Su Feng ate with his head down, his mouth glistening with oil. Eldest Sister-in-law Wang Chuntao was more talkative, chewing on meat as she spoke animatedly: "Mother, our New Year is more comfortable than even a landlord's! All thanks to Little Uncle, and to Village Head Zhao's care."

"Yes, thanks to the Workshop's fortune." Su Shan, a man who had been silent his entire life, uncharacteristically picked up his wine bowl, his cloudy eyes reflecting the firelight, and clinked it against his eldest son's.

"Father, drink less." Second Brother Su Yang added some more dishes to his father's plate, then turned to Su Ming, lowering his voice, "You, why are you so quiet today?"

Su Ming scooped rice into his bowl, the rich aroma of the meat seemingly unable to dispel a hint of chill in his heart.

He smiled, "It's nothing, I just feel... it's really good."

It truly was good.

His mother's nagging, his father's rare smile, his eldest brother's honesty, his eldest sister-in-law's frankness, his second brother's concern. All of it, like the warm lamplight in the room, was real yet fragile.

However, his 'Listening' technique could not be turned off.

Against the backdrop of this joyous laughter, he could 'hear' the deathly silence behind the perpetually closed wooden door of Su the Scabby's house deep in the village. No crying, no curses, not even an echo of the wind.

That silence was more unsettling than any sound.

"Disciple, thinking about that stray dog?" Lin Yu's lazy voice echoed in his mind.

Su Ming's heart tensed.

"The Mortal world is like this; where there is light, the shadows only deepen." Lin Yu's tone carried a hint of amusement, "What you see now is the light. That stray dog and the deathly silence in his home, that's the shadow."

(Inner thoughts: "Sigh, it's New Year's, can't we just eat properly? Why be so profound. This braised pork smells really good, too bad I can only smell it. Back in the day... never mind, back in the day I was also working overtime eating instant noodles. Compared to that, being a ghost doesn't seem so bad?")

Su Ming looked at the white hairs at his parents' temples, at the wrinkles on their faces that had smoothed out due to their improved lives, and something deep inside him was profoundly touched.

He clenched his fists under the table.

What he wanted to protect was this small, fragile light before him.

"Master," he whispered in his heart, "I understand. Power isn't just about surviving oneself."

"Oh?" Lin Yu seemed to gain some interest, "Then what is it for?"

"To allow those who wish to live, to live well."

Lin Yu was silent for a moment before leisurely saying, "That's a grand ambition. However, the path must be walked one step at a time. First, eat this meal well, then you'll have the strength for the next step."

Su Ming took a deep breath, temporarily suppressing those distracting thoughts and anxieties. He looked up and gave his mother a bright smile: "Mother, it's delicious! I want another bowl!"

The wind and snow outside seemed to have lessened too.

On New Year's Day, as dawn was just breaking.

Before the cooking smoke had even risen from every household, the village's gong was struck, its clang echoing far in the crisp air.

"Everyone out! Everyone out! Village Head Zhao is handing out red packets at the Workshop entrance!"

The village's half-grown children shouted at the top of their lungs, going from house to house.

The Su Family also came out.

The newly opened Workshop square was already packed with people. Almost everyone in the village, men, women, old, and young, had arrived.

In the center of the square, two large iron pots were set up, boiling with steaming meat soup, its aroma wafting everywhere.

Village Head Zhao, dressed in a brand new dark blue silk-padded robe, stood on a makeshift wooden platform. Behind him stood the two burly men Su Ming had 'seen' in secret, like iron towers, their cold gazes sweeping over everyone below the platform.

The villagers cowered, whispering to each other, their faces a mix of anticipation, awe, and unease.

Su Ming noticed that in the crowd, the men newly recruited into the Workshop stood furthest back, heads bowed like quails. The shrewdness and ambition that had been written on their faces a few days ago were now completely gone, replaced only by submission.

"Fellow villagers!" Village Head Zhao cleared his throat, his voice booming, "Happy New Year!"

A sparse response rose from below the platform.

"I know, everyone worked hard last year." Village Head Zhao wore a genial smile, "Our Su Family Village, generation after generation, has toiled under the sun, but never have we been able to hold our heads high like this year!"

He paused, then raised his voice: "Who is this thanks to? It's thanks to everyone's concerted efforts! So, I, Village Head Zhao, on behalf of the Workshop, am giving everyone a red packet, to share in the good fortune!"

With that, he waved his hand.

The burly men behind him brought out two heavy wooden trays, piled high with strings of money wrapped in red paper.

"For every old Waiter in the Workshop, three hundred wen each! Newcomers, one hundred wen each! For those not working in the Workshop, every household also gets a share, fifty wen! To bring good luck!"

The crowd instantly stirred.

Three hundred wen! That was almost half a month's wages for a strong laborer!

"Thank you, Village Head Zhao!"

"Village Head Zhao is truly a living Bodhisattva!"

For a moment, compliments and expressions of gratitude rose one after another, instantly dispelling the previous suppressed atmosphere.

The villagers lined up, taking turns to receive their money. Genuine joy beamed on everyone's faces.

Village Head Zhao watched all this with a smile, and once most of the red packets had been distributed, he raised his hand again, signaling for silence.

"Money is a small matter." His voice deepened, and his smile faded, "What I want to talk about today is rules!"

The square instantly fell silent.

"It wasn't easy for our Su Family Village to reach where it is today. What I hate most are those ungrateful wretches who eat their fill and then complain, or even try to smash everyone's rice bowl!"

His gaze, like a knife, slowly swept over everyone below the platform, lingering especially long on the group of new workers.

"Some people's hands reach too far, and their hearts are too wild. They always feel they're getting too small a share of the Workshop's meat. But they don't consider that without this Workshop, they wouldn't even have a drop of soup!"

A cold wind blew, stirring up snow dust from the ground, and everyone felt a chill rise from their feet.

"I, Village Head Zhao, am making it clear here: if anyone dares to scheme behind our backs and ruin the village's good fortune, don't blame me, Village Head Zhao, for being merciless!" He pointed towards the east side of the village in the distance, "Su the Scabby is a lesson! Where is he now? I'll tell you, he colluded with outsiders, tried to burn down the Workshop, and I sent him to the county prison! He'll never get out in this lifetime!"

Boom!

A suppressed gasp went through the crowd.

Su the Scabby was sent to prison?

Su Ming's heart, however, was icy cold. He knew Village Head Zhao was lying. After that night, Su the Scabby's presence had completely vanished; it was definitely not as simple as being sent to prison.

This was a 'story' told to everyone, a warning to kill the chicken to scare the monkeys.

"See, disciple?" Lin Yu's voice chimed in at the right moment, "Once the carrots are given, the stick must follow. First, bind people with benefits, then use fear to eliminate the troublemakers. This Village Head Zhao plays politics well."

(Inner thoughts: "Tsk tsk, this acting, it'd be a waste not to go to film school. Sent to the county prison, fooling ghosts? Oh, I am a ghost... but even I'm not fooled. But the effect is really good, look at those troublemakers, their faces are pale.")

Su Ming looked at the faces of the villagers below the platform.

He saw gratitude, he saw awe, and beneath that gratitude and awe, he saw deep fear.

Village Head Zhao was no longer just the Village Head who had to mediate between villagers and officials.

He had become the king of Su Family Village.

"Alright, it's New Year's, let's not talk about such depressing things." Village Head Zhao's expression softened again, as if his earlier severity was just an illusion, "Everyone go have a bowl of meat soup to warm up! When spring comes, the big merchants from the south will arrive. They're scrambling for our paper! By then, everyone's dividends will only be more!"

The words "big merchants" were like a new seed planted in the heart of every villager.

That represented more money, better days.

The Su Family also received red packets. Su Shan and Madam Su Chen clutched the heavy strings of copper coins, their hands trembling slightly.

Su Ming tucked his red packet into his embrace, but the copper coins wrapped in red paper felt somewhat burning to the touch.

It was not a favor.

It was a shackle.

The crowd gradually dispersed, each carrying a bowl of meat soup, heading home with satisfied yet complex expressions.

Su Ming walked last, and he looked back.

On the high platform, Village Head Zhao stood with his hands behind his back, overlooking the entire village, the two burly men still standing behind him like door gods.

A gust of wind blew, making Village Head Zhao's robe flap loudly.

Su Ming saw that at the very east end of the village, in front of Su the Scabby's tightly closed courtyard gate, his wife was kneeling in the snow, kowtowing silently in Village Head Zhao's direction.

Again and again.

There were no tears on her face, only a deathly gray numbness.

Su Ming withdrew his gaze, silently clenching the burning red packet in his embrace.

This New Year, after all, was not peaceful.

Would those so-called "big merchants" bring more wealth, or an even greater storm?